The Ancient World
by rejooc
Summary: Eragon has left Alagaesia and sailed out to begin the new Dragon Riders. However, he doesn't know he has sailed back, and is about to meet the elves before they were ever elves, and learn magic in a way he never expected. The Dragons are here but they certainly aren't the same. How will Eragon navigate this new world that is older than anything he can imagine?
1. Ocean of Grief

Zi'Nawne leaned heavily on the broken railing of her ruined home. As Guardian, she had been faithful to her duties and remained in the wreckage and un oath of silence for nearly 20 years. The pain of living this way had damaged her body and the results were dark green scars down an otherwise perfect neck and chest. The other manifestations of maga's strength inside her were faintly luminescent eyes and hair, and icy pale skin.

As a golden ship with billowing white sails approached the port, Zi'Nawne took a sharp breath, desperate to join her subjects on the docks. Her tail flicked angrily. But her oath was still binding and so she settled into a crouch at the edge of the balcony, watching with ears flat against her striped black hair.

"He's grieving."

"Clearly, Ya. A fool could see that."

"And so a fool did, if you noticed, too."

The servant bowed, recognizing he had overstepped his place. "Yes, Ya'Mino."

"Don't fret," the proud man said, squinting through the sun at the ship that fixated the attention of his subjects. Nawne's subjects. "Someone's doing enough of that already."

Lanr glanced up at the ruined castle, its twisted vines and towering wreckage piles ominous even on a sunny day like this one, and nodded, understanding. "But she is very quiet."

"Well she must be. The oath doesn't break until the Rider announces his intention. Both parties must recognize what will occur. But she will come. And she will be beautiful. She is beautiful."

Lanr was quiet, not daring to comment. No one had seen Zi'Nawne for nearly 20 years, including herself, and she wasn't bound to be beautiful at all after so much time with maga.

The ship rose on a swell and fell gently into the water, sending waves across the shore and the tiny graves marked there.

 _So many graves. Let this mark the end of it all._ The headstones shimmered faintly, in response to his thoughts. The same sort of phenomenon might have been what made the ship glow, or it might have been the Sky riding upon it, but certainly the ship did glow, and the men and women on the shore noticed it as well.

With obvious trepidation, those gathered stood in small groups, huddled together but still full of pride, standing tall. Tails flicked nervously and fur bristled and the ferocity of the people present was plain to see. A few faces seemed to be on the verge between fear and jubilation, clearly hesitant to embrace the hope that was so many years later than they had expected and possibly even many years too late. Although most of the men kept their gaze firm on the ship, a few of them allowed themselves a quick glance at a particular headstone, as if afraid it would be damaged when the waves splashed it. Even more of the women did so, although their commitment to act was not lessened by their divided focus.

There were no children.

 _We're here, Little One._ Saphira pushed her head into the ship's main cabin and nudged her resting Rider, gently, mildly amused that he could rest so long.

Eragon rolled over with a groan, his muscles stiff from laying down so long and his face dry from crying so much. _Am I weak?_ He asked, in response to Saphira's concern.

 _No,_ she said, after a pause, _but you cannot go on like this. Let us leave our grief in the ocean._ A puff of smoke escaped her nostrils and Eragon knew she was thinking of a certain green dragon. He put a hand on her neck, understanding, and stood to get dressed.

"Where is here?" He pondered out loud, not expecting an answer.

 _Blödgharm approaches_ , Saphira said, withdrawing her neck and head. Eragon belted on Brisingr and inhaled and a steadying breath, surprised at the salty flavor of the ocean air.

 _And of my grief._ He decided, borrowing Saphira's words.

Eragon exited the cabin after Saphira as Blödgharm approached, each already knowing what the other would do.

"Astra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon Shur'tugal."

Eragon paused, considering the words.

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr, Blödgharm. Let us leave these traditions."

If Blödgharm was surprised he didn't show it, but acknowledged with a quick nod and continued in the Ancient Language. "You look unwell, Shur'tugal."

"My grief is in the ocean." Eragon responded simply, turning to face the looming shore. An array of men and women stood, seemingly awaiting their arrival, and he couldn't help noticing how much they resembled his companion. "Blödgharm, have you seen these people?"

"Indeed, Shur'tugal." He said no more but his fur bristled.

 _They look like dragons,_ Saphira commented, surprising Eragon. He looked again and realized she was right. The people on the shore had features like the elves in Alagaesia but most of them wore colours, whether in their clothes, skin, or fur, like Blödgharm, and they all had _Tails!_ Eragon felt Saphira's silent confirmation.

Wary of cultural differences, Eragon began to raise a hand in greeting and then put it back down. He decided waiting until they met would be better, and certainly he wouldn't have to wait long. The ship rose and fell on a wave and came to a gentle stop against the docks.

 _Do we fly?_ He was already climbing onto Saphira's back, knowing what her answer would be, and indeed nearly always was.

 _Not always. But I am Sky._

Eragon laughed uneasily, not sure what he was detecting in her thoughts. Both of them, he realized, and even the elves whose minds he brushed on the ship, felt very awake. Something inside of them, ancient and powerful, had come to the surface and seemed to stir there, very ready to be released but not quite pushing its way out. He shook and closed off his mind to all but Saphira.

He glanced back at the spot where he knew the Eldunarí were hidden.

 _We are well, Rider._

Eragon settled onto Saphira's back and breathed once, steadying himself as she took to the sky.

 _The air_ , he corrected. _She is the Sky._ And he was sure, too.


	2. Welcoming the Sky

Zi'Nawne watched the blue dragon soar and a soft exhale escaped her lips. She could feel the slow release of maga and cringed as her ears popped and joints ached. As much as she longed to watch the interaction on the shore with avid attention, she had preparations to begin. She concentrated hard and felt the glimmer of a new cloak and wrap forming on her shoulders and bodice. A soft skirt fluttered around her legs and her footwraps were replaced with delicate leather sandals with straps running up her slender legs.

She practiced standing straight and tall and smiling but couldn't help feeling disappointed that she seemed so feral even to herself. She shook her head and shook loose the thought. Opening her mouth wide and wrinkling her small, scarred nose, she let out a soft yowl like a cat and smiled ferociously. Her voice was back.

On the shore, the dragon alighted gently and let out a puff of smoke from one great nostril, fixing an eye steadily on those receiving her and her Rider. Zi'Nawne raised her arms high and let out a command for the stone wyrms guarding the ruins with her to spring forth. Gently placing one hand on the stone closest to her, she hummed in her chest and the ruins pulsed.

Two stone wyrms carved into the remains of the entrance shimmered and awakened, groaning as maga returned to their still bodies. Their eyes flashed, matching the ferocity and vibrance of Zi'Nawne's. Together, the three guardians descended towards the shore.

Eragon knew better than to chastise Saphira and indeed, felt no need to. Despite his trust, he couldn't help being slightly concerned that her brusque greeting had been received poorly. He brushed his mind to feel the magic inside him and reassure himself but didn't reach outwards yet.

He thought of his first visit to Tronjheim and realized with chagrin that his comfort level with crowds had not increased.

 _The great Firesword can't handle a few friendly faces?_ Saphira snorted.

 _A few?!_ Eragon started counting and stopped when he reached twenty. He swallowed hard and tried to smile but stopped, afraid it would look more like a grimace. He could feel the warmth spread across his cheeks and was acutely aware of how odd he looked in this group.

Blödgharm's mind gently brushed Eragon's and he opened enough to listen. _They are friendly, Shur'tugal. And they are beautiful._ Blödgharm's astonishment was evident and the blue elf shivered excitedly.

 _Have you touched their minds?_ Eragon could feel no hostility but was hesitant to reach out to a potentially alien race, no matter how excited Blödgharm was.

 _No, Shur'tugal._ He retreated, recognizing his presumption and Eragon frowned.

A yowl sounded from somewhere past the shore and Eragon watched as various reactions spread throughout the onlookers. Some paled, clearly afraid, others seemed merely resigned and even put their heads down, and still others smiled, visibly relaxing as if they could afford to believe the best. Eragon wasn't sure what could be convincing about cat sounds but had learned not to question cultural practices until he had had a chance to understand them and he certainly didn't understand anything yet.

Finally, after what felt like several minutes, a tall, broad man, the one Saphira had initially greeted with her piercing gaze and had continued examining while Eragon looked around, took a step forward. The distance between the man and Eragon and Saphira was not far and Eragon wished they had landed closer to the end of the dock where the ship had anchored and Blödgharm was standing. Through sheer force of will, Eragon avoided glancing to where the Eldunarí were hidden and kept all thought of them out of his mind, shoving up his walls with Saphira's lended strength.

Ya'Mino felt heavy. He was confused by the pale skin of the Rider and the strange appearance of his bodily features. The blue man was less confusing but certainly disabled, and Ya'Mino forced the contempt out of his mind.

 _We've waited so long and we get a pale man and a broken man, with only one dragon among them._

He stopped in front of the dragon and her rider, carefully avoiding the dragon's eyes, as was custom.

 _A very old custom._

The man stopped in front of them, bowed slightly, and twisted his hand in front of his chest. For a moment, Eragon expected the same motion the elves of Du Weldenvarden used but this motion ended with a closed hand and a slight crouch. The man had a regal bearing about him, his crimson fur blowing slightly in the sea breeze and his tail hovering just above the ground. His features were strange, certainly, but not so much as to be foreign, and Eragon recognized a submissive expression.

 _Do I copy him? Or use my own?_

Saphira merely snorted in response.

 _He didn't use a greeting, am I supposed to begin?_

 _You don't even know his language_ , Saphira reminded gently.

Grumbling, Eragon settled for silently copying the motion as best he could.

The man's spotted ears flicked, although whether it was surprise, annoyance, or approval was unclear. As they straightened, the onlooking crowd bowed deeply, wrapping their tails around their legs and bending low. Eragon knew if he had ears like the strange man's, they would have flicked, too.

"Greetings," he began in something close enough to the Ancient Language that Eragon understood, "I am Ya'Mino. Welcome to Nierbölr." The air seemed to shimmer as he spoke and Eragon felt that same pulsing power he felt before. Ya'Mino extended one hand into the air, its back to Eragon, who cocked his head slightly, confused.

"Hello," he replied. "My name is Eragon Shur'tugal. I didn't expect anyone to receive us. How did you know we were coming?"

Saphira silently agreed that "Shur'tugal" was better than "Kingkiller" in this situation.

Ya'Mino put his hand down awkwardly and smiled, revealing sharp teeth like Blödgharm's. "Maga showed us." He said simply.

 _I don't think maga is a "who," but a "what."_ Saphira answered Eragon's silent question.

"You brought the Sky with you." Saphira seemed to glow when Ya'Mino spoke of the sky.

 _Lotha_ , Blödgharm used the word from their Ancient Language with reverence, as if remembering something important.

Saphira crouched again, bending her neck to be eye level with Ya'Mino. _Why won't the red man look at me?_

Eragon repeated the question and this time the man did visibly react.

Stooping to his knees and bending low to the ground, he spoke in a terrified whisper. "I never meant to offend, but to respect. Please accept my forgiveness."

Saphira rose and snorted, eliciting a flinch from Ya'Mino and a barrage of flattened ears from the rest of the crowd.

 _Won't you console him?_

 _No,_ she snorted, _He did offend me._

 _He didn't mean to. Don't you accept his apology?_

 _He apologizes because he's scared. Rightfully. I will accept it when he apologizes because I am worth it._

She didn't explain further and Eragon couldn't help wondering what she meant. Before he could ask, another yowl sounded from the sand and two grey creatures like Eragon had never seen twirled through the air beside a green woman ( _!_ ) with glowing stripes and scars. He instinctively reached for Brisingr but was careful not to unsheathe the sword enough to draw attention. He couldn't help noticing the design glowing as if alive.

The woman walked as if she was extremely sore, tenderly placing each small foot in front of the last and swaying softly on the spot. Her eyes glowed and something in Eragon was equally terrified and thrilled. He was surprised to find a similar feeling from Saphira, and saw that her eyes were glowing, too.

"Welcome." Her voice sounded as if it was echoing from far away or like she was speaking with two voices at once and the power resonating in her tone was crippling.

 _Nasuada is a great leader but far from capable of that._

 _She is made of magic._ Saphira responded. _She is like a dragon…._ She was clearly uncomfortable and Eragon placed a comforting hand on the side of her neck.

"I am Zi'Nawne. You are Za'Eragon." Ya'Mano flinched and sent a snarl into the ground, avoiding looking at the others. "You," she addressed Saphira, who flattened her wings, crouched, and faced the woman directly, "are I'Lorht. The Queen of the Sky and the Sky itself." The woman extended her arms and glowing wings sprouted around her, lifting her into the air and making her deep bow visible to everyone gathered.

Saphira extended her neck and surprised Eragon for the thousandth time; she opened her mouth wide and breathed a heavy stream of blue fire into the lightning form of Zi'Nawne. Eragon responded only by widening his eyes, confident that Saphira would not roast the woman, and stepping away from the heat of the flames. When Saphira clamped her jaws shut and Zi'Nawne returned to the ground, both were glowing and bright.

 _Greetings, Delor, Queen of the Earth, sister of my mother._


	3. Churning Waters

**Author's note: Thank you so much for your support! Totally did NOT expect it and I'm beyond flattered. It means so much to me! I've had questions about whether there will be anything here between Arya and Eragon and whether other characters from the original books, like Angela, will make an appearance in this story. I've thought about both of those things and I think that I can't rule either of them out! I think I'd definitely like to include more characters from the originals (especially Angela because she's my favorite) but I may shy away from writing too much ExA. I'd like to focus on Eragon and Saphira moving forward and I'm excited to see where the characters go! Thank you all!**

Eragon reclined against the cavern wall and smiled at Saphira playing with one of the many granite wyrms in the room. They had bothered her at first but when she realized they didn't shy away from her nipping or her fire, she decided they may be an entertaining distraction.

 _I haven't had a chance to hunt for a long time and I don't want to lose my ability._ She huffed, not glancing up from her "prey."

 _You would be a fierce hunter no matter how long you rested between outings._ He responded admiringly, laughing as the wyrm spiraled around one of her scaly blue legs and wove between the spikes of her long back. _And you're getting so big!_

 _Perhaps to a man. Or more than a man,_ she threw a meaningful image of his changed appearance up in her thoughts, _but I want to be fierce for a dragon!_

They played for a few more minutes before Saphira, sensing Eragon's admiration, added, _Thank you, Little One._

He just smiled, and tried to return his focus to the conversation at the table beside him. Lanr, standing in the corner, was scribbling furiously, trying to keep up with the two elfins at the table. The activities in the room made it hard to pay attention, though.

 _As does the Spice._

Eragon suppressed a giggle, naming the drink in the native tongue. _Loisva_. _Lilies!_

 _Watch that you don't fall out of your chair, you drunk._

 _You're just jealous they don't have barrels like the dwarves did._

Saphira snorted disdainfully and returned to her play, ignoring Eragon's stifled laughter.

"It has been twenty years, Mino, we must continue breeding." The stripy green woman lounged on a plush seat, picking strawberries from the feast. Her hair was lustrous and her skin had returned to a more normal glow, seeming healthy other than the scars that she said would never leave her. Her eyes still glowed and Eragon could see that her posture was relaxed but her meaning was firm. "Maga is free and we must begin so we can ensure our children are the strongest possible!"

"Nawne, Maga may never return in full force."

Nawne stared, shocked, at her second-in-command, and Lanr kept his gaze focused on his birch scroll. "Don't say that again." She finally told him quietly, her ears settling against her hair. "Maga is very strong," she held him with a strong look, "and I know that the best."

Mino held her eyes for a few moments before casting them away and running a hand through his fiery hair, tail flicking against his furry leg.

"But we haven't seen any other signs," he said at last, appealing to the evidence at hand, "and we still haven't begun to assess those from the ocean." Eragon understood that it was his turn to speak.

"What would you like to know? I have questions of my own but if I am the guest I want to let you begin. Mino opened his mouth and closed it sharply. The wild colours of the elfin people still made Eragon uncomfortable, particularly the dazzling blue and green people who glowed at night like the moon's reflection on the waves that constantly crashed against the shore.

 _And keep you up at night._ Saphira sniffed, settling in next to him and placing her head close to the others.

 _It's only been a few days since we arrived. I'll get used to it._ _Blödgharm isn't resting well either, and the salty air has been matting his fur. We'll acclimate. We just need to find a way to get the conversations moving towards more important issues. I feel restless without any direction after sailing for so long._

 _Breeding sounds like a very important issue. You must have noticed there's no children here._

 _I noticed as soon as we docked. Zi'Nawne said it has been nearly twenty years and I wonder if she knows I'm almost twenty years old myself. I can't help feeling that you or I have something to do with this. Everything here seems like it froze in time a long time ago. A bit paradoxical isn't it?_

 _Paradoxes are for your people to figure out. I'm more concerned with the children._ She stared at him with one giant blue eye but he didn't follow her strange thought processes. She seemed so focused on…something. Breeding? Why did Saphira care so much?

Eragon decided to continue the conversation later and returned his attention to Ya'Mino.

"I can see on your face, Rider, when you are talking to the Sky. Have we displeased your Great Ones?"

"Don't be sarcastic, Mino," Zi'Nawne plucked a grape from her plate and crunched on it loudly. "Lanr, scratch it from the record. I don't want to remember how rudely Ya'Mino treated Za'Eragon and I'Lorht." She crunched an almond and reached a delicate hand up to Eragon's cheek, caressing him. "You are not guests here, you are home now. You said you can't go back so you will stay. Don't worry about Mino. He just doesn't want to breed!"

Without another word she sat up, recoiling her hand like she hadn't touched him at all, and faced the other members of the group with a stony expression.

"We have to begin. Maga will return and we haven't had any children for twenty years. We have buried the ashes of the dead, the sand has taken them, and the ocean has drowned our grief," Eragon shivered at the similarity to Saphira's advice to him before, "and we must crash like waves before the storm rolls in." She looked meaningfully between Ya'Mino and Eragon before standing up and looking to the mouth of the cavern where the setting sun could be seen dropping below the horizon.

"Tomorrow," she decided, "you will demonstrate your maga. Tonight, the waters are churned and the sands are settling. Soon," those dazzling green eyes locked into Eragon's brown ones and then slid to the red depths of Ya'Mino's, "the waters must swell."

Taking her leave, she walked swiftly out the mouth, touching a glowing hand to the stone, she climbed nimbly aboard the back of a marble beast with wings that was certainly not a dragon, but also not something Eragon had a name for. It had appeared in response to her touch and Eragon wondered what magic the elfins were capable of.

 _Ocean metaphors_ , Eragon decided, _are complicated._


	4. Wyrda and Maga

Even though he didn't sleep like he did when he was fully human, Eragon still had dreams. That night, he dreamt of Arya. Her raven black hair feathered out behind her, riding the currents of the air as if it were made of wind itself. She glowed with pride as she admired Fírnen, a dragon with scales the same colour green as his Rider's eyes. Laughing and smiling widely, as she only did when she rode, she looked over at Eragon, riding Saphira beside her.

Saphira roared loudly and Fírnen snorted, eliciting laughter from both Riders. They screamed gleefully as the two dragons plummeted, spiraling around each other. Arya reached out a hand towards Eragon and the ancient language danced from her lips.

" _Fëon_!" Flowers poured from her fingers, landed in her hair, and streamed around them. She giggled, and smiled at him, shining adoration pouring from her eyes.

 _A boat_ , he thought, _like the one she made when we were in the Empire. I will give her a boat._

He opened his mouth to grant her his gift and a voice much older came out. " _Wyrda!_ "

Arya's face fell and the graceful spiral became a fearful plummet. Eragon screamed her name but she seemed not to hear as her face grew pale and she slipped from Fírnen's back. Eragon tried to reach out but found that he was bound by glowing strands of letters, spelling out the word for fate in the ancient language. " _Wyrda_ " a soft hiss came from them as they burned his skin and held him firmly, far away from Arya as she fell.

Eragon watched in horror as she shrank, her skin became gaunt, and just before she fell out of sight her wounds from Gil'ead spread across her body again.

 _Eragon!_

He jerked and sat up, pouring sweat.

He stared wide-eyed at the floor as Saphira nudged him with her nose. Her bedspot was close enough to his that she could reach him without standing but she was standing over him protectively, crouched low, and Eragon was sure she had been growling a moment before.

Without words—not that he could have chosen any—he sent her the images from his dreams.

 _Fear, probably. But still, we should scry her soon._ She was always so level-headed, and Eragon closed his eyes, grateful for her presence. He could sense her concern for not only Arya, but also Fírnen, the dragon with whom she mated before leaving Alagäesia.

 _Forever_ , he thought miserably.

Saphira rumbled in her throat and nudged him again, gentler this time. _Rise, Little One. It is time to learn what these strange prism elves have to tell us._

He stood and began to undress, preparing to bathe, shave, and perform the morning routine Oromis had taught him. He sensed a playful note in Saphira's thoughts when she thought of Zi'Nawne and questioned her.

 _She'll want to speak of breeding again._

 _I hope not. Ya'Mino seems like he's not interested and I don't know what she expects me to help with. I certainly can't settle a dispute between the two of them._

Saphira purred again but didn't answer and Eragon ignored her, too agitated from his dream to care what she thought at the moment.

Having finished getting ready, and dressing in a jerkin and pants suitable for training and practicing swordsmanship or magic, with Brisingr buckled safely to his hip, Eragon climbed onto Saphira's back and the two soared from the mouth of their cave.

 _How do they keep the caves warm?_ Eragon asked, looking down at the many dots of caves surrounding the elfins' central city of Du Bleikrsolus, the Shining Sun. With towering spires and stone walls, the city was much more obtrusive to the surrounding area than the cities of Du Weldenvarden. However, only the infirm were housed inside the city. All of the other elfins lived in caves or tree dwellings in the surrounding areas. The tree dwellings resembled those Eragon had seen elves live in in Alagäesia, and he suspected the caves were sung into their shape the same way. As a result of this system of inhabitation, Du Bleikrsolus was much smaller than most central cities Eragon had seen, and every spot in the city was fascinating.

Money was not used among the elfins and they paid for good and services by lifelong commitment to contribute themselves, as well. Market stalls were setup where fruits, vegetables, and nuts were provided, as well as some homemade dishes like tarts, pies, and roasted carrots and corn. In other areas, blacksmiths forged tools and swords, and some crafters specialized in saddles and accessories for the wyrms and the other strange creatures here.

 _Magic,_ Saphira finally responded, _is very powerful here. You must feel it, too._

Eragon was silent, uncomfortable with the unknown forces facing him here. He wondered if leaving Alagäesia was a dangerous mistake but he could feel that it was right. He only wished Brom was there.

 _Leave your grief in the ocean, Little One. We have crossed beyond those waters._

 _You sound like Zi'Nawne_ , he responded bitterly.

 _We're here._ She responded quietly, landing gently and putting her head down to lick Eragon's shoulder as he got off. Eragon patted her nose and she snorted. He couldn't help smiling and the two of them crossed the field to meet Zi'Nawne who was sitting cross legged on a rock overlooking the crashing waves. The number of cliffs here was astonishing.

"Zi'Nawne," he began immediately recognizing their strange custom of ignoring greetings. "It's rude," she had told him the day before, "to greet your friends as if they are strangers. Let us avoid the greetings and continue conversing each time like no time has passed. It shows that we thought of each other in the space between meeting." Eragon was confused but respectfully followed the custom.

"What is this place called?" He gestured vaguely, hoping she would know what he meant.

She smiled her strange, catlike grin, and stood. "Stonrakr." Handing him a small breakfast tart topped with a raw quail egg, strawberries, and cream, she laughed heartily and opened her arms to the sea. "We are the wet stone placed in the ocean by maga!" Her voice was like dancing and Eragon couldn't tell if she was wild and beautiful or wild and crazy.

 _Both_ , Eragon and Saphira decided at the same time.

They ate and Zi'Nawne explained the situation they were entering.

"We've been waiting," she started, licking jam off her dainty fingers, "nearly twenty years for the arrival of a Rider. Each dragon," she nodded respectfully to Saphira who was happily crunching the bones of something that vaguely resembled a deer but was much faster and much harder to catch. Saphira loved the chase and was pleased that these creatures were offered as prey whenever she'd like to hunt them. "is named for the force they most closely resemble. That is why we call Saphira the Queen of the Sky. I'Lorht."

"I don't understand your naming customs. Why are you Zi'Nawne, but Ya'Mino calls you just Nawne, and Lanr doesn't have a starting bit like that at all? Why do you call her I'Lorht or I'Saphira, and me Za'Eragon?"

"I beginnings are feminine. A'Lorht would be King of the Sky. Za or Zi is the highest rank an elfin or human—"

"or elf?"

"Sure," she decided, after puzzling for a moment. "the highest rank one of us could have. I am the Guardian, and the Rider of the stone. I am not bonded to a dragon but am considered, here, the Queen of the Earth. _Delor_." Eragon recalled Saphira's greeting on the beach and thought he understood a little bit.

"Why not I'Delor?"

Zi'Nawne looked offended for a moment but caught herself. "I am not a dragon." She said stiffly, before sighing. "I'm sorry. Only dragons can be afforded the honor of being named beyond any ranking. Zi is the highest female ranking, I is beyond that. It is an honor only dragons are worthy of."

"So Ya'Mino is ranked lower than you? And Lanr is not ranked at all?"

"Correct. There are only two named ranks, Z and Y, all others are of equal standing, whatever their contribution. So you, Za'Eragon, are the highest ranked male in Stonrakr. And Mino calls me Nawne, without the title, because we are close. You can do the same if you'd like!"

He thought for another moment and she took the opportunity to scoop the cream out of another tart before eating the doughy meal. She always saved the cream for last and popped it in her mouth only after swallowing the rest of the tart.

"Are you ready to begin?"

"Let us." Eragon decided it was better to begin right away before his nerves took over.

 _Be careful with your magic,_ Saphira chimed in, _I think it may not act as you expect it to. Can you feel the energy in the very air here? And my fire is much stronger here than in Alagaësia._ Eragon agreed and stood a few paces from Zi'Nawne, hoping they would start with something simple.

"I simply want to know what your maga is!" Before Eragon could clarify, Zi'Nawne crouched low into the grass, pressing her hands deeply into the roots and the dirt with surprising force. Thunder rumbled and a sudden wind storm shoved Eragon to his knees.

 _Is this her? Is she doing this?_

He thought for a moment, reached deep into his mind to his magic, and spoke forcefully, " _Thrífa blöthr!_ "

The winds slowed and he was able to stand, but rain was pouring down on him now and he could feel the force required to maintain his spell so he ceased.

" _Frethya!_ " He tried and the storm moved instantly, hiding behind Zi'Nawne.

 _She casted magic with no words!_

 _I don't think she is casting magic,_ Saphira responded cryptically, a frustrating habit of hers when she was thinking something through still. Eragon didn't have time to ponder her words so he began returning the force instead. He decided to draw on his particular strengths and bring fire to her storm.

" _Istalrí,_ " he spoke calmly this time and concentrated on the shape and direction he wanted it to move as it funneled through her storm and dissolved it from the inside outward. He was careful to keep his mind closed off but did not feel any attacks if she was posing any.

They went on for a while, performing acts against each other back and forth, and Zi'Nawne maintained her position against the—

 _Earth! She's drawing power from the ground!_ He remembered seeing her perform magic when she brushed the stone in the cave the day before.

 _No,_ Saphira responded but did not explain. Eragon was growing frustrated and raised his hand to signal they should stop. Instantly the weather cleared and the last sparks of lightning she had thrown at him dissolved back into the ground.

"Nawne,-"

"How did you do that?" Her eyes flashed and she glared, her face glowing with unconcealed amazement and…anger?

"Do what?"

"You commanded the forces with your words, you did not need to channel them!"

"I wanted to ask you how you drew your power from the earth! It seems we both need to explain ourselves." Zi'Nawne waited but Eragon had no intention of going first.

"I didn't 'draw power' from the earth. I gave my will to it and it responded. I channeled the forces I most align with—earth and stone—and they provided storms. They particularly like storms because then they can grow and build and reform so most of my maga works with weather."

Eragon and Saphira exchanged confused glances.

 _Is this magic much more sophisticated than what we learned? Or much more primitive?_ Eragon questioned.

 _I don't think,_ Saphira responded cautiously, _that it is the same magic at all._


	5. Looking Back

A people made of elements, who channel the very forces of the universe. Eragon thought back to the dwarves' religion and wondered if these beings would be considered gods. Maga, the life force, was a balancing power, where the elfins gave their maga to ensure the good health of the land and the trees and more, and the universe granted them maga to sustain their lives.

Eragon thought back to when Nawne had summoned the stone beings in the cave and realized she was using her very life force, the essence of her existence, to communicate with the forces of the world. She dived below the physical appearance of stone and joined her own nature with it, calling out to summon those beings.

 _You're right,_ he told Saphira, _It isn't really magic._

He stared at his hands, entranced, and surprised that Nawne had reacted the way she had to his magic when he was mesmerized by her powers.

"It takes great power," she told him, "to command the forces of maga."

He had tried to explain to her that her magic was of terrifying power and that all magic users in Alagäesia used words to command magic, but she just shook he head in amazement.

 _Do you think this is the kind of power the Grey Folk had long ago before they bound it to the ancient language?_

 _I think that binding is just the truth-telling. If they made it so you could not lie, then using magic was just a matter of forcing your words to be true. When you say_ brisingr _and flames appear, it's because you cannot lie and so flames must be true._

Eragon rubbed his neck, head aching and thoughts spinning. He watched Zi'Nawne dance along the stones overlooking Nierbölr, the beach where they had arrived, and couldn't help noticing how similar she was, in appearance, to Arya.

 _But much freer._ He thought bitterly.

 _Don't be so sure, Little One. She has a heaviness about her. I think it relates to the breeding and the fact that there are no children here._ She stopped abruptly and would not continue when Eragon probed, so he decided he would leave her to her thoughts. He patted her foreleg gently and began scooping out dirt from in front of him.

Saphira, recognizing his intentions, moved her head closer so she could watch.

" _Adurna rïsa_ ," he spoke quietly so as not to draw attention from the singing elfin, When the water had risen enough, which took less time than it ever had in Alagäesia, he stopped the magic and held the water in place. " _Draumr kópa_." He kept Arya firmly in mind and watched as the waters swirled but remained black.

 _She's in Du Weldenvarden._ He sighed, feeling foolish for having forgotten that scrying into the forest was impossible. _She's sure to have other protections on her to prevent scrying._ He wished he had thought to plan something with her so they could scry each other and talk again, but he knew it would only bring heartache.

Saphira rumbled sadly and put her head down on the grass.

They scryed Nasuada and Roran and Murtagh, and were pleased that they all seemed to be doing alright although they were certainly overworking themselves. Nasuada was having an audience with someone Eragon couldn't see and was clearly frustrated by them. He knew the look in her eyes when she was going to have to dole out a punishment she didn't want to have to do and couldn't help feeling a little bad for her and the rule-breaker. Roran was in Palancar, working hard to restore Garrow's farm. Murtagh was with Thorn, somewhere Eragon had never been before, drawing and writing. He looked better than Eragon had seen him before and he hoped Nasuada's judgment of him was correct.

Eragon released the spell and sat back against Saphira's scaly side. They exchanged no words and both could feel the bittersweet feelings coming from the other.

"Nawne," Eragon called to the elfin, deciding to focus on his curiosity instead of his past, "tell me about the children."

 _Eragon!_

Zi'Nawne stopped dancing, but continued to stare towards the beach, her face crestfallen.

Reacting to her thoughts like all of the elements here seemed to, the stones glowed and warmed and Nawne sat down as Eragon approached.

"Twenty years ago, there was an explosion.

"I was in the mansion at the time, you've seen the ruins atop the hill near Nierbölr. My family and I lived there together. I bore no scars at the time and I was called the Lovely Queen. I had brothers and sisters, all younger than me, and both parents. My grandparents had passed away and we were a small family. Most of my time was spent learning skills I would need to rule and to guard, as our kings and queens are not only leaders but guardians."

Eragon thought of Islanzadí Drötting and thought he understood.

"Ya'Mino," she laughed, "was a young bachelor and we had been teasing each other for a long time. Due to our rankings, the expectation was that we would breed. But both of us were too young. So we teased and played and waited.

"One day, shortly after the moon had set and the sun was rising, the air chilled and became crisp and many people died. We understood later," she responded to Eragon's confused face, "that maga had been weakened and could not sustain so many people. We do not know how, only that a great force must have shattered somewhere and broken part of maga's power. When the air warmed again, maga was overwhelmed by the grief of our people and there was a second explosion and retreated into me, as the guardian.

"My home was destroyed and my family, those remaining, were killed. I stayed in those ruins for twenty years, unable to speak or sing. I was alone with maga. The toll of that relationship has been largely physical," she gestured to her dark green scars and luminescent eyes, "but there are internal results as well and I fear that I will not readjust properly to civil and social life. Ya'Mino fears more."

"So when Ya'Mino was concerned that maga would not come back as strong?"

She threw her hair over her shoulder and the scent of fresh rain washed over Eragon, surprising him with its intensity.

 _Eragon…._ Saphira's warning was unclear to her Rider and he looked up, confused. She snorted and returned her attention to Zi'Nawne.

"He is concerned that there is not enough maga for our people to breed again. Because there was so little for the last twenty years, there was not enough to support new life and every birth has been still. Most of the children who were alive at the time of the explosion perished as their magas were still weak and unsustainable."

They sat in silence, looking over the waves crashing onto the shore where the graves of those lost were planted firmly in the sand. Each was lost in their own thoughts and Eragon was surprised at how much his thoughts centered around this strange green woman. He thought it was funny in a sad sort of way that he could be so entranced both by the rider of a green dragon and a woman who greatly resembled a green dragon herself. He thought of her tail, shivered, and sent his thoughts elsewhere.

"I want to breed." Zi'Nawne broke the silence and started Eragon out of his revere.

"But Ya'Mino seems hesitant. How will you convince him?"

Saphira snorted and Zi'Nawne locked eyes with Eragon for a long time before suddenly throwing her head back, laughing her very cat-like laugh, and standing up. She offered him a hand and smiled.

"You're very cute and you are as full of fire as your magic! Let us meet more people and see whether you understand then. Are they enjoying themselves?"

Eragon was blushing and trying hard to concentrate both on paying attention to Zi'Nawne and ignoring Saphira's laughter roaring in his head. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Your dragons! The Eldunarí are there, yes?" She pointed to the spot hovering near Eragon where the Eldunarí were hidden and smiled. "We are glad you brought so many. Both our people and our dragons will thrive again."

She danced down the hill leading away from Nierbölr, singing something about stones as strong as dragons and dragons made of stone, leaving Eragon and Saphira in their shock. They stared at each other wordlessly and even the Eldunarí, normally content to watch in measured silence, were unable to find words to say. One great voice boomed in Eragon and Saphira's heads and they recognized Morablr's deep bass.

 _Enjoy, Shur'tugal. You will have many._

Saphira chuckled but Eragon was just as confused as before, wondering where the thoughts of the great dragon had taken him to elicit this remark.

 _And you, Brightscales. Congratulations._

Saphira stopped laughing and Eragon threw up his hands, marching on after Zi'Nawne. He meant no disrespect but he was getting plenty of cryptic responses from the elfins without needing more from the Eldunarí.

 _We must speak with Blödgharm,_ was all he said before catching up with Zi'Nawne and continuing their walk in silence.


	6. The Mist in the Void

Warm moss padded the blue elf's footsteps as he approached a great waterfall lined with blue and pink crystals. He stood for a moment, brushing droplets of water from his brow and concentrating on the shape of the stones at the base of the falls. He decided that their design was likely to promote bathing and wondered who would go so far outside Du Bleikrsolus to wash.

Blödhgarm had spent his days exploring since they arrived on Nierbölr and Eragon had once again been thrown into the political life of a shur'tugal. Today he was exploring the area of land northwest of Du Bleikrsolus after having discovered that the southern region was largely swamp land and east was, of course, the ocean. Although Blödhgarm could swim quite well and was certainly capable of studying the marshes and beaches of Stonrakr, he definitely preferred not to have to get wet if he could avoid it. However, the waterfall was too beautiful to ignore and he hummed in his chest, greeting nature with a song the way he had learned in Du Weldenvarden.

Allowing his mind to brush the consciousnesses of the creatures and plants around him, he was surprised to realize there were no animals bigger than the small mouse nibbling on a bulb of some plant he didn't recognize. Concentrating, he pushed towards the bottom of the lake swallowing the water from the fall and discovered a variety of fish and creatures there. Strange tracks and scratches around the edges of the lake told him the animals inside it were not restricted to it and he wondered how far they had to go on land to hunt.

He closed his mind again, worried these strange creatures might use mental attacks to catch their prey, and continued around the edge of the lake to the crystal walls near the torrent of water pouring from a crack in the cliff face around 20 feet above his head. As he got close, he realized that they weren't crystals sticking out from the wall but millions of tiny pores that revealed crystal beneath the rock face's grey surface.

As he was examining this feature of the waterfall, a small pebble bounced by his feet. Without hesitation, he turned and crouched, hissing and pulling a knife from a sheath on his thigh. Holding the knife in front of his face, he bared his wolf-like teeth in the direction the pebble came from and growled in his throat.

 _You're jumpy._ A voice in his mind said, regardless of the barriers he'd thrown up. He didn't even feel anyone try to enter his mind, and he froze in shock, eyes wide and muscles clenched.

 _You're also wrong. I'm behind you._ He risked a glance behind him and saw a small elfin woman—he would have assumed it was a child if he hadn't known better—staring at him with large round eyes the colour of sand. Everything about this person was pale as if she'd been caught in a sandstorm and bleached in the sun.

He growled louder this time, his nose puckering up in a menacing snarl. The woman giggled a high laugh that reminded him of rocks blowing over each other in the wind. She jumped down from the rock she was on and approached him slowly, surprising him by being even shorter than she had first appeared. Her head came up to the bottom of his sternum.

"Astra esterní ono thelduin, Blödhgarm." She said aloud, twisting her hand in front of her chest and inclining her head towards him.

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr-?" He responded habitually, more surprised now than anything, although he was still on high alert and his fur bristled.

"They call me the Akr unin du Und, the Mist in the Void. But I prefer Tawny." She smiled, revealing sharp, feline teeth and her cat eyes flashed.

Sitting on large flat stones in a cave behind the waterfall, Blödhgarm kept his eyes locked on Tawny as she moved around, preparing the meal she had insisted they shared. She pulled a variety of toasted herbs from a small stone oven, wrapped half of them in slices of meat and half in strips of dough, and then dropped them onto a hot stone in a fire in the middle of the room. She tended them carefully, turning them so the meat became crisp and juicy and the dough became golden brown.

When it was time to eat, she carefully separated the pile and provided Blödhgarm only with those without meat. He eyed her curiously and took a hesitant bite, watching as she poured thick white cream from a flask into a bowl and lapped at it with her small rough tongue. He needed no more confirmation.

"I didn't expect to find werecats here." He spoke softly, aware of his wolf-like features and deeper voice.

"I didn't expect to enjoy the company of someone who doesn't eat meat, but here we are! And you certainly seem pleasant enough." Tawny took a bite of her food, ripping the meat apart while the blue elf stared, shocked.

 _Don't be such a stick in the mud,_ she thought to him, presumably because her mouth was busy chewing on particularly large piece of meat. _The formalities of new friends are a waste of time._

He said nothing but she must have felt his mental scoff and she squinted at him with frustrated eyes.

"No good?" she finally asked, nodding at his still full plate.

He took a bite to escape having to say anything else, finally moving his eyes down to his meal and away from her strange face. Settling in, they didn't speak again until both of them had finished their food and Tawny had lapped up the rest of her milk.

"What is it from?"

"Dandelion milk, actually. Not as good as skula milk but certainly easier to get. Skular," she responded to his questioning expression, "are those strange creatures A'Eragon keeps seeing Zi'Yawne ride around on. She goes everywhere on those things!"

Blödhgarm recalled seeing the green lady soaring around on the back of a creature like a stone dragon with a short snout and two sets of wings and assumed that's what she meant.

 _Indeed,_ she answered.

Blödhgarm growled and stood harshly. "Stay out of my head, werecat."

Tawny giggled and began licking her fingers. "You wonder why I know so much. How I know so much."

He didn't answer, frustrated that she seemed to get so much from his short answers. Muttering under his breath, he considered the crystals in the pores of the rock and wondered if he could access them closer from inside the cave. Eyes darting, he began searching for cracks or crevices, certain that the mouth of the cave was not the only way Tawny got in and out.

"What else lives around here? I can't imagine you like the water enough to hunt in and out of it."

She shivered, as he knew she would, imagining the lake's water on her lovely skin or fur.

 _Lovely?_ Blödhgarm shook his head to clear it, surprising himself with his assessment.

"Druknablakya. They catch their prey in their mouth and roll to drown them and break their bones. They have learned, however," she smiled wickedly, admiring her fingernails and, Blödhgarm suspected, imagining her claws, "to share."

"Are you spinning stories again? Yarn is for spinning, stories are for telling, and don't get those things confused!" A familiar voice sang through the cave and Blödhgarm realized that one section of rock wall was an illusion when a woman with wild hair and a dirty face walked through it towards them, and Angela the Herbalist threw a ball of yarn at a very excited Tawny.


	7. Chasing and Hunting

Scratching absently at her scars, Nawne purred gently. She watched as Eragon shook the hand of an elderly elfin with pink spots in her purple fur, who quickly turned an even darker shade and giggled. Eragon blushed and stepped back, confused by her reaction, and inadvertently stepped on a yellow man's tale. The Rider was clearly agile and balanced well on his feet but his embarrassment caused him to jump the other way and bump into a young woman whose fur was particularly long and soft and he blushed when her ears perked up and tail wrapped gently around his ankles. He excused himself and navigated the crowd back to where Nawne was sitting.

"You insisted on seeing the market." She said, smiling.

He didn't respond, straightening his jerkin and sitting down beside her on a stone bench that rippled when he sat down. Eragon glanced down at it as if worried it might suddenly dissolve but Nawne tapped it gently and it solidified again. Used to this behavior by now, Eragon didn't even an arch an eyebrow.

"What do you do for fun? Do you like desserts? There was a trader that always came to Carvahall that had the best, stickiest cherry pie and—" he caught her expression and stopped. "Let us drink." He stood and offered her his hand, the gedwëy ignasia shimmering brightly.

She stood without taking his hand, smiled brightly, and darted through the middle of a crowd of elfins admiring a craftsman's bows. She nimbly wove through the sea of blues, greens, purples, reds, and yellows, among others, and Eragon could hear her giggling on the other side.

 _A chase!_ He thought, surprised and excited. It had been so long since he'd just played. _Don't,_ he told Saphira who was forming a cautionary warning. _You hunt, I chase. Let us have fun._

 _Don't forget that I hunt prey and I do not believe you intend the Green One that way._

He stopped, surprised by her frustration. _Saphira, what is it that's bothering you?_

She didn't say anything but put her head down on the bench they'd been sitting on a moment ago, folding her legs down so that she could rest on the ground. He realized, and kept the realization to himself, that she was jealous.

 _Let us hunt!_ He roared, swinging onto her back and hollering as she jumped into the air, excited by the attention. She positively swam through the air, rolling on the currents and over the heads of the onlookers who had now decided she was much more interesting than the craftsman's bows, much to his chagrin. Nawne was dashing up a wooden road between two towering buildings used for medicines and housing infirm elfins.

 _Let us hunt._ She agreed, swooping low and aiming a dive so that she would make it to the end of the alley at the same time Nawne did. Eragon admired both of their physical prowess and thought again how similar they were. Their tails moving smoothly, supporting the movement of their hips and torso as they engaged their muscles and propelled themselves forward, Saphira on her great azure wings and Nawne on supple green legs.

Saphira had timed her dive perfectly and plucked Nawne in her claws, holding her gently as she pounded her wings down and shot upward with a powerful gust. Nawne's agility surprised them both when she climbed around Saphira's claws and up her side, a feat even Eragon would not have attempted from this height. She slid into the dip in Saphira's back, putting her arms around Eragon's waist and giggling as she glanced down at Stonrakr far below them as Saphira left Du Bleikrsolus behind. They soared for several minutes in contented silence, all three parties whirling around in their own thoughts.

The new heights seemed to grant them new perspective and there seemed to Eragon that a weight lifted from all of their shoulders.

 _I love you, Saphira._ He patted her shoulder, silently thanking her for everything she had done for him.

 _I love you, too, Little One._ She had more to say, and they could both feel it, but now was not the time. They mutually agreed to speak tonight before bed.

"Thank you," Nawne mumbled into Eragon's shoulder, her voice thick and sleepy. He put a hand protectively on her arms, still around his waist, and noticed for the first time how smooth her skin was. He pulled one hand away from his stomach and held it up, spreading her fingers and examining the hue of her skin. He used the hand that had the gedwëy ignasia and she seemed equally fascinated by their hands together. She used the tip of one pale finger to trace the pattern on his palm and he watched as her skin's luminescence became brighter.

"I'm happy," she explained quietly. She sounded as surprised as he felt and he decided it would be best to leave her to her thoughts.

They circled Nierbölr, careful to avoid getting too close to the ruins of Nawne's former home, and listened to the waves crashing below them.

"Nuanen," he muttered quietly, and watched as Saphira's scales sparkled with a thousand stunning blues, and Nawne seemed brighter, as well.

 _You are beautiful,_ he thought. _Both of you._

Saphira swelled with adoration of her Rider and quietly explained to him what she had been meaning to say for a long time.

 _A baby!_ Eragon finally exclaimed. _You and Fírnen!_

Saphira hummed in her throat and snorted proudly. Eragon was amazed, even more than when Roran and Katrina told him they were expecting. But then he was worried, and he realized he had no idea how to support Saphira or what she would need.

 _Don't worry. We are here._ Hearing Glaeder's voice in their minds was bittersweet and Saphira withdrew, embarrassed by the memory of her attempt at mating with the great golden dragon.

 _Yes, Ebrithil._ Eragon spoke for them both and Saphira stooped her head slightly, grateful to them both.

 _Eragon,_ she said finally, _Nawne wants a baby, too._

 _But Ya'Mino doesn't want to mate. How will she convince him?_

 _She doesn't want Ya'Mino's baby, Little One._

She left him to ponder her words and when he finally came to the conclusion that he had understood long before he accepted it, he sighed.

 _I know._ Memories of Arya and desires for what could have been filled his mind and Saphira allowed him to grieve fully, providing her own memories and images. Glaedr joined, providing the now-humorous memory of her smashing his fairth in Du Weldenvarden. They laughed together and Eragon choked back the tears that sprung to his eyes. Saphira thought of Fírnen and they mourned together.

Finally, after what must have seemed like a very long time to Nawne, he spoke aloud to her.

"Ono eru nuanen, Zi'Nawne, mar pömnuria ástandí vanta líf. Pömnuria harmr ikonoka." He said quietly. Knowing her use of this language was slightly different than his own, he said again, "You are beautiful, Zi'Nawne. But my heart is lacking life. My sorrow is complete."

Nawne was quiet as Saphira soared down to the stone yard where dozens of paths led out to the caves and woodlands where elfins and Eragon resided. Saphira landed gently and Eragon and Nawne climbed down. Nawne's deep green eyes pierced Eragon and he couldn't look away from her bright face, although he wasn't sure if wanted to.

Her soft brow furrowed as if she had finally come to a decision, and she stood up on her tip toes, kissing Eragon gently on the corner of his mouth. Her tail flicked and heat surged in Eragon's stomach and chest. She placed firm hands on his chest and rested her forehead against him.

"Hvé ono heill, celöbra edtha."

He blushed and inhaled, breathing in the scent of her hair and wrapping his arms around her. She walked away and he climbed aboard Saphira, putting his head down against her neck and sighing as she took off.

When you heal, honor me.


	8. More than Quills and Ink

Blödhgarm watched in frustrated surprise as Angela hooked a kettle over the fire and threw a wad of herbs into the water. Tawny giggled as she tossed the yarn in the air and chased it around the cave on all four feet like a cat. Just as Blödhgarm made this association, she changed form and became a long-haired cream tabby cat, purring and pouncing, tail flicking. She glanced up at Blödhgarm, and mewed, amused.

 _Don't be so surprised, Blood Wolf. You chase women, I chase yarn. Or do you just smell like that for your own enjoyment?_

She blinked, eyes sparkling, and chased the ball of yarn through the illusion Angela had entered through. Blödhgarm quietly whispered words from the ancient language that would allow him to discover what magic had been used to create the illusion and grant him vision through it.

"I wouldn't," Angela said, furrowing her brow and prodding a pile of wet cloth with a stick. "They don't play by the same rules here and you certainly don't want to get turned into a skeeter or something!" She smiled menacingly and turned her attention fully towards him.

"How did you get here, Angela Frethyan-Kona?"

"That isn't very interesting. I'm here, what else is there to muddle over? You know every breath you take is one less you have to take! But of course, we have centuries of breaths left, you and me. So let's talk about Nawne and Mino instead."

Blödhgarm had stood while she was speaking and was peering out through the cave's entrance, considering the water falling from above them and wishing it would provide him his answers. He said nothing and Angela went on.

"I'm certainly not going to tell you everything but let me just tell you enough." She poked the cloth with her finger this time and pulled back, muttering distastefully and rubbing her hand on her skirts. "There's more to writing than just quills and ink and I'm sure the bird would agree!"

She clapped her hands and sighed. Blöodhgarm turned in time to see her grinning, somehow seeming both satisfied and amused at the same time. Before he could say anything or even process what she had told him, she waved and turned on her heel, storming out of the cave.

"And get out, by the way!" As soon as her skirts cleared the illusion and she was totally out of Blödhgarm's sight, a terrible grinding stone noise emanated from the cave walls. Without waiting for more reason, the blue elf crouched low, yowled, and sprinted from the cave, dashing along the slender precipice where he had first seen Tawny, and holding the cliff face with his hands. The stone was wet, however, and he barely made it two steps before his grip threatened to give out.

" _Vindr huildr edtha_ ," he muttered, lowering himself to the ground with a slow trickle of magic. He navigated around the pouring water and landed safely out of reach of the druknablakya in the lake. Letting out a whoosh of breath as he landed, Blödhgarm released the magic and pulled out the map he'd been designing as he trekked across Stonrakr. Singing quietly to ward against mistakes and to encourage a steady and accurate hand, he pulled out a brush and painted the cave and the waterfall and the lake, including careful detail so he could recall where the cave was but someone who found the map might not. With a steady hand, he wrote Frethyan-Konya, hidden women, and rolled the map back up, tucking it gently into a tube on his waist.

Satisfied, he stood, intending to choose the next direction for his travelling and deciding instead that returning to his dwelling might be best. He hadn't heard from Eragon or Saphira and wanted to perform dutifully, ensuring the success of their mission here. He was thrilled to have the opportunity to travel but Tawny was right—he did enjoy chasing women and he was quite bored without the attention of elves and human women and particularly without their company. He wondered what the customs were here for mating and companionship and pondered this as he hiked back the way he'd come, towards Du Bleikrsolus.

Eragon and Saphira soared over the woods, hoping to catch a glimpse of Blödhgarm. Saphira, who was particularly attuned to shades of blue in the world, was adept at finding the elf, and Eragon sat back, not worried about helping.

 _I shouldn't be so caught up in my own head that I'm neglecting you,_ he thought miserably, rubbing his eyes with rough hands. _You are my priority! And your baby…._

Saphira roared loudly, startling Eragon back into an alert position. _Stop,_ she told him. _Skulblaku and I are fine, dragons have had babies since the dawn of time and I am no less fierce for it._ She snorted a jet of flames as if to emphasize her point. _And you are confused, Little One, not neglectful. We both have things to consider. However, you must decide soon. I no longer believe that we came here only to rebuild the dragon population._

 _The elfins need to rebuild their population and certainly mixing human, elven…whatever I am…into their race won't help any._ He tried to ignore his scarlet blushing but couldn't help the hot feeling in his neck and face. _I don't even know how to…how. To court a woman._ He finished lamely.

Saphira snorted and Eragon appreciated that she could maintain her sense of humor.

 _Just use your instincts. Fírnen and I did not discuss anything. There is no need._

 _Not communicating also got you bit,_ he reminded her gently, _and I don't know if I am prepared to be involved with anyone._

Saphira was quiet and they flew in silence for nearly twenty minutes before she quietly announced they had found Blödhgarm. _There._ Eragon examined the images she was seeing through their mental link and agreed that the blue man running through the forest was not an elfin but their companion.

 _Do you think he will have advice?_ They both thought the question at the same time and Eragon hugged Saphira's neck gently.

 _We don't need advice, just each other._ Saphira hummed in her chest and agreed happily.

Saphira spiraled softly towards the forest floor and Blödhgarm changed his direction to meet them in the clearing she was aiming for, having noticed them from a great distance off. He entered the area just as they landed and they stood in silence for a moment, each considering their own day and unused to meeting without formally greeting each other. Eragon inclined his head slightly and Blödhgarm did the same, each visibly relaxing.

"Skulblaka, Shur'tugal."

"Du welden ikonoka nuanen. Very beautiful, indeed." Eragon looked around the forest, breathing in the heavy scent of moss and bark and remembering his time spent sitting in the glen in Du Welden Varden, taking all of the forest in and becoming a deep part of the world around him. His heart ached for Oromis and Glaedr and he turned his attention back to the blue elf. "Do you feel prepared to begin planning? We must find a place for all of us and very soon."

Eragon allowed Saphira to explain to Blödhgarm about her mating and impending egg-laying and watched as Blödhgarm's face drew into the most expressive look of deep thought he had ever seen etched onto the man.

"There is much that needs explained and by very many people. Eragon, is there anything that needs addressed between Ya'Mino and Zi'Nawne?"

Eragon and Saphira exchanged glances and Eragon felt his crimson blush extend through his ear tips.

"There is much that needs addressed on that front, friend."

Blödhgarm sighed. "There's more to writing than just quills and ink and I'm sure the bird would agree. So who is the bird?"

Eragon thought of the bird Brom had enticed when he was first explaining the ancient language. "Fethrblaka, eka weohnata néiat haina ono. Blaka eom let lam."


	9. Fire and Thunder

Inky black waves crashed on the moonlit sands of the shore north of the docks where a golden ship was anchored. Saphira amused herself- or perhaps distracted herself- by breathign heavy streams of fire into a sandpit, melting it into convoluted glass sculptures, still flaming from the wood and plant fibers caught in the gooey mess. Blödhgarm strolled alongside Eragon, singing quietly to himself and kicking sand, imagining the stripy face of a werecat coloured similarly. His songs turned to shaping magic and his eyes flashed deeper blue and slowly morphed to green and then gold. The appearance, Eragon decided, was much more frightening than his last, and certainly more discomfiting.

Eragon was pondering Zi'Nawne's explanation of maga and elemental magic, and remembered her saying his magic was made of fire. He wondered if she was right and what his magic would have looked like had he grown up here instead of Carvahall. Beautiful Carvahall. Ruined Carvahall. He had no home and the heartache he felt was deep and burned hot.

 _Maybe I am made of fire._ He thought sadly.

 _You are a Dragon Rider,_ Saphira snorted, bellowing a particularly bright blaze of flame from her gaping maw, _of course you are._

He cocked his head and considered that. Thinking of Arya and Murtagh—pushing aside the pain that came with those thoughts—he decided Saphira didn't mean every Dragon Rider and meant it to compliment his character individually. He smiled and sent her his gratitude.

"Blödhgarm," he began, already picking up the bluntness of the elfins, "what troubles you so much?"

The elf looked up, his amber eyes beaming and a spots of cream-coloured fur licking the blue tufts around his face, ears, and spine. His lips tightened as if he wanted to smile and cry and couldn't quite do either one, and he moved his gaze to the stars.

"I know nothing of these constellations. But I have seen them before in texts we have maintained in Du Welden Varden for thousands of years. Some texts have no date and it has been thought that they may have been from the Grey Folk but of course we know nothing of the Grey Folk. We know nothing about anything before us. And it seems to me, that we, Shur'tugal, know nothing of what lays before us now either."

Eragon, who had not considered that "before" could be used that way, pondered his words. "You are troubled because you regret coming?"

"No. I am troubled because I am afraid." His voice was a low whisper and Eragon realized that the elf had never demonstrated or acknowledged his fear before. What must be required of an elf before he finally felt afraid, Eragon was sure, must be immense.

"Blödhgarm-vor, you are my friend," Eragon spoke in the ancient language and although he wasn't sure if its truth-binding properties held in Stonrakr, he was sure that he spoke the truth, "and I'm scared, too."

Blödhgarm looked surprised, expecting encouragement or advice, and felt a wave of frustration.

 _I am afraid._ Saphira's voice spoke quietly into both of their minds and the depth of her words struck them both; they stopped walking and kneeled in the sand. Saphira joined them, wrapping her tail protectively around both of them and lending her warmth to the group. For the first time, Eragon was not jealous. He normally preferred that her affection remain reserved and had only barely accepted displays towards Arya and Roran. However, he recalled the sacrifices Blödhgarm had made on their behalf, and was glad Saphira could support them both.

Eragon leaned forward and used one finger to draw in the sand. He leaned back to reveal the yawë symbol—Blödhgarm took a sharp inhale of breath—and began singing quietly, changing the image slowly.

He sang of war and fire and death, and the yawë began to glow red.

He sang of tears and goodbyes, and the yawë became watery and distorted.

He sang of friendship and compassion and determination, and the yawë set itself in glowing liquid stone.

Blödhgarm joined, singing of forests and ruins and many more years than Eragon could fathom, and the yawë became more slender, appearing as a simple script in the sand.

Together, they sang of loss and gain, defeat and victory, and those victories that hurt so much you still feel defeated.

Saphira joined, humming deep in her chest and lending the powers and magic that only happens around dragons. They opened their minds to each other and shared memories and they saw Arya's face and Roran's face and elves that Eragon had never met. They saw swords and blood and friendships shattered by cruel wars. But then their singing changed, and they shared their memories of laughter and feasts and magic so beautiful it drew an amazed hush from those that witnessed it.

And the yawë was no longer the same symbol at all, but one of their own making and it featured the very best and worst of all of their memories and their experiences. Just the same as the original, it was a bond of trust that far surpassed anything words in any language could say.

 _Moi gath._ _Change unites._ Saphira whispered quietly.

The moon was at full height when they finally stopped singing, voices sore. Eragon was surprised that they had sung for so long without food or water, remembering his experience with Horst's baby daughter, and shook his head.

 _This magic was strong. The magic here is strong and the magic contained in us is strong. We are strong._ He soundlessly expressed his thoughts to both of his companions and they climbed on Saphira's back, sitting carefully so as to avoid her spikes, and held on as she leapt into the sky.

 _We are strong. Vae eru ramr. Vae eru drjugr._

Saphira flew high so they could enjoy the beauty of the strange lanterns the elfins used and called garfëonzla—flameless orbs contained in closed flowers so that the petals both enhanced and distorted the light—but could not be seen themselves. Some elfins, perhaps those whose maga was bound to the air or perhaps to water or perhaps to something else entirely, looked up as if they sensed the presence of the great dragon, the life she carried in the egg forming within her, the blue elf who had no tail and was no longer just blue, and the Dragon Rider who was no longer human.

Eragon spread his arms wide, and letting the night air flow through him. Blödhgarm kept his eyes down, focusing intently on a waterfall northwest of Du Bleikrsolus. Saphira hummed sending vibrations through her riders' legs. If she was human she would have laughed, and Eragon could feel her joy and love of flying. He smiled wide and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to be drawn into hers and sharing their vision so that he could see as she did. Her ability to see at night amazed Eragon, who was fairly capable with his new eyes but not nearly as capable, apparently, as a dragon.

Seeing in shades of blue allowed her to distinguish the mush of blacks and greys and browns that made up the night for anyone with human eyes. Eragon wondered what Nawne saw at night and decided in the moment that he would go to her.

 _Little One?_

 _Celöbra heill edtha._

She scanned through some images from his memory and mentally sighed, resigning herself to accept his actions. Romance and physical affection had been the one source of disagreement between dragon and Rider and she could see now, as she had learned to see in Alagäesia, that he needed this.

 _Slowly._

 _Vëoht_ , he agreed, concentrating on what he would say to the green woman, Queen of the Earth. He was surprised that his thoughts didn't spark a blush in him again and cautiously felt out the heat blossoming in his stomach. He allowed Saphira to probe his feelings, unobtrusively observing what he felt and experienced.

 _Ground walkers,_ she decided, _are so strange._

He sent back an image of Saphira and Firnen disappearing into the clouds and played the sounds of their interaction through his memory as he had witnessed it and laughed, showing her how very strange they seemed to him. She sniffed once, pridefully, and then relaxed.

 _I suppose each bird must flock with its feather. A peacock certainly looks strange to an owl._

 _But whose feathers do we use for quills?_ He thought back to Blödhgarm's strange message and turned to ask the elf but Blödhgarm shook his head.

"Not now, Shur'tugal. I can see that you two are speaking and tonight is not the night to think, but to act. We can discuss all of this later." His eyes wandered back in the direction of the waterfall and Eragon nodded, deciding their bond of trust was more important than pressing the issue.

 _You have grown, Little One._ Saphira hummed as they landed outside the cave they shared. Blödhgarm deftly leapt to the ground, bowed and turned his hand over his chest, and then turn and ran, headed away from his own cave and back towards the forest.

 _Northwest._ Eragon noticed.

 _And you must go South._ She pointed with her nose towards Zi'Nawne's cave and nuzzled gently against his shoulder. He patted her on the jaw, scratching her favorite spot, and smiling weakly. His nerves had caught up with him and his throat felt thick. He thought again of his connection to fire and quietly whispered "burn" to himself in the ancient language.

" _Eldrvarí._ " He used no magic but somehow naming the feeling made it manageable and he took a steadying breath, squared his shoulders, and walked silently through the night towards…he wasn't sure what.

Flickering lights still danced on the walls of some of the caves and quiet whispers snaked through the air like fog. Eragon's ears were certainly capable of picking up individual words and sounds but he chose to ignore it, allowing the drum of senseless noise pour over him. He mentally examined his body, remembering where scars had lined his back and hands. Although those had been healed, many new ones marked his legs and torso from wounds he had received since the agaetí blödhren. He felt equally embarrassed and proud of the state of his war-stained body and thinking of the uses to which it might be put threatened to bring the crimson back to his face.

The bottoms of his boots padded softly on the stone stairs that led from one circular clearing to the next and he was sure no human could have heard his movement. He welcomed the flow of information into all his senses, smelling smoke and roasted vegetables, listening to the babble of elfins, and examining the outlines of cave walls and foliage. He could taste the salt in the air when he opened his mouth but kept it shut for fear of becoming sick with nerves.

Finally, or perhaps very shortly thereafter, he approached the entrance to Zi'Nawne's dwellings. Tugging his jerkin straight, he suddenly wished he had taken the time to clean himself off or change altogether. He ran a hand through his hair and immediately felt silly so he put his hand back down. One more steadying breath and he closed his eyes.

Stepping into the light of Nawne's fire, Eragon felt his worries fade and immediately relaxed, his shoulders dropping and a warm expression filling his eyes and smile.

Zi'Nawne looked up from her wooden desk where she had been carefully marking out careful script with a large white quill and creased her brow questioningly.

"Ono naina iet hugr." He whispered, crouching so that he was eye level with her at her sitting height. He continued in the ancient language, "You alleviate my pain and have made every moment bright for me. I would like to honor you if you would have me." His voice became very quiet as his nerves flamed again. "Vëoht," he added, remembering Saphira's warning.

Zi'Nawne stared at him for a long time, examining him with tight eyes. Eragon wanted to look away but maintained eye contact firmly. Finally, she stood, and approached him slowly, cautiously.

He remained crouching and she kneeled in front of him, placing her delicate fingers on the side of his face. Her eyes were bright and held his steady and he felt as if he were melting at her touch.

"Ono ignasia," she said quietly. "Bright like the sun. And I will have you."

They stood together, hands linked, and she led him to a small archway off the main chamber of her cave which opened into a large bedroom with a round bed in the center. He breathed nervously as they sat on the edge of the bed and inhaled the warm scent of rain that always seemed to follow the green woman with luminescent emerald eyes.

They kissed gently, once, and she spoke softly still close to his mouth. "Vaeu?" She asked, gently. "A small one from us?" she repeated in common speech.

He closed his eyes and could feel her shake her head.

"Né. Mar vae weohnata celöbra. Vëoht." He nodded and agreed. Not tonight, but we will share honor.

"Vëoht," he whispered, "nuanen Nawne."

They drew together again carefully and melted together, fire burning and thunder roaring.


	10. Birds of a Different Feather

**Chapter 10**

 **Birds of a Different Feather**

Eragon squeezed his eyes shut and closed off his mind tightly, certain that Saphira would be waking soon and want to reach out. He didn't want to speak with anyone.

Laying on the big round bed in the center of the room, he probed gently and discovered he was alone. Good.

His face was warm and wet and he felt silly for wanting to cry as badly as he did. His bare chest also felt hot, despite the cool air blowing in from the main cavern. He wished he had his shirt but couldn't remember where it was and didn't feel like groping around mostly naked in someone else's room.

He took a steadying breath and grasped the blankets around his waist, dragging them with him as he sat up. He supposed that he should be grateful that their encounter hadn't progressed as far as he had intended but ending his first physical experience with a woman with her in tears and him shaking wasn't ideal.

Both embarrassment and anger brought red to his face as he located his shirt and pulled it on over his head and jerked his boots over the ends of his pants. Realizing he would have to walk past dozens of elfins to return to his own cave and to Saphira, he took a moment to straighten his hair and clothes and to properly lace his boots over his pants.

He kept his mind tightly shut as he began the return to his room, wishing he had left earlier and there weren't so many elfins. Luck was on his side to some degree, however, as most of the residents here were engaged with their morning meals and paid no attention to the Eragon. As he left Zi'Nawne's cave, he couldn't help noticing, with a bitter surge of anger, that her large white quill was gone, as was the text she had been composing the night before. Both, he now knew, were for Lanr.

Carefully replaying the night, he thought about the words she choked through sobs as she explained that she had never cared for Ya'Mino but was not supposed to breed with someone of lesser rank. Like Lanr. When her parents were alive, she didn't care for what she was "supposed" to do but of course now she was bound to honor them and felt trapped. She had hoped, she said, that Eragon might be the fix to her problems but she couldn't help comparing Lanr's soft magenta fur to Eragon's pale skin. She decided they couldn't go through with what they had begun after several minutes of gentle exploration and soft kisses. To Eragon, this was just as well.

Her green eyes had reminded him painfully of Arya and while he had hoped that being with Zi'Nawne would help convince him that he truly had moved on and left his life behind him, he knew in his heart he had not.

 _I may never,_ he decided.

He thought of Brom and had to choke back the tears that threatened to overflow. His father who had fought tooth and nail for the Varden and for the very egg that had brought Eragon his dragon, his beautiful Saphira, named unknowingly after Brom's own dragon, lost tragically. His father who had fallen in love with Morzan's Black Hand, the mysterious Selena, who had given birth and passed away within a year of each other.

Shy of deciding outright that he would never fall in love again—certainly, if Brom could fall in love with the Black Hand then there was hope for him yet—Eragon was sure it would not be for a very long time. Right now, it was hard to imagine loving anyone other than Arya and he couldn't help being jealous of Saphira who would have a beautiful baby as a result of her relationship with Fírnen. He shook his head, recognizing the foolishness of this jealousy, and reached out softly with his mind.

He was close, now, and wanted to let Saphira know he was approaching, but didn't feel quite ready to speak. He sent her images from his memory of that night and allowed her sympathy and affection to pour into him.

Entering their cave, he looked around the room, absorbing everything from the fire pit, the washroom, and the large divot where Saphira slept next to the bed prepared for him. There were a few stacks of clothes and some books, including Domina abr Wyrda and the poem he had performed and Oromis had decorated for him.

Finally, he let his eyes meet Saphira's and couldn't help being amazed. It had been so long since he had properly appreciated the majestic blue of her scales, the gem-like colour of her eyes, her muscles, and her size. She had grown so much since they had been joined and he was amazed by her abilities. He couldn't help but laugh at her, perched on the edge of her divot, crouched cautiously as if she were nervous what he might do or say.

 _I do not wish to upset you, Little One._

Closing his eyes, Eragon allowed his tears to spill and dove into every pool of aching grief he carried in his chest. He grabbed the blanket off his own bed and crawled into Saphira's divot. She followed, wrapping protectively around him and covering him with one large blue wing. He looked up, remembering how often he had compared them to the sky as they traipsed across Alagäesia on one mission or another.

Eragon tucked his head against Saphira's side and wept.

 _Today,_ Saphira said quietly, _is a very good day to stay in bed._

Blödhgarm paced, ears flicking as he waited impatiently for Tawny and Angela to finish their breakfast. Neither of them ate very much compared to the elf and he had still finished his meal first. Finally, he decided that pacing wouldn't get him anywhere and decided to wait outside. Meditation, he knew, would make his wait seem much shorter.

He had been sitting on the forest floor, a safe distance from the beasts of the lake, for nearly an hour when the two women emerged and he sensed them approach. Carefully withdrawing from the minds of the woods, he opened his new amber eyes and glared at them.

"Eh, you can't rush beauty." Angela, who had clearly not taken even a moment on her appearance that morning, explained.

"Then why did it take you so long?"

Tawny giggled and Angela smiled.

"Very well, elf, then you can't rush flavor, and my breakfast was delicious."

Blödhgarm sighed and stood up, standing a full head taller than Angela and several taller than Tawny.

"Thank you," he said, "for allowing me to stay and answering some of my questions."

"Of course, plant-eater." Blödhgarm smiled. "I like the changes, by the way." Tawny ran a small hand through her own mane of sand coloured hair and laughed at Blödhgarm's expression.

"Nuanen," he agreed, carefully, "we are beautiful."

Angela laughed wildly, throwing back her curly mess of hair. "Speaking of the dangers of beauty, did you give Eragon my warning?"

"Warning?"

"Well I suppose it wasn't really that surprising, it always seems to be the quiet ones, doesn't it?"

"What warning?"

"About birds and ink and…oh I don't remember what I said. But she loves Lanr, doesn't she? But she's beautiful and Eragon's sad so of course he's going to do something foolish." She shook her head sadly. "The things people do for love, right, Tawny?" Tawny was not paying attention, however, as a large bug had flown by and was apparently of greater interest to the werecat. "Yes, well, you wouldn't understand. I don't even understand!"

Blödhgarm's ears flattened and his fur wilted, making him appear much smaller than he actually was. Angela perked up.

"But of course if you told him then I'm sure he didn't do anything foolish! Unless you didn't tell him. No one ever listens to me." She shook her head again. "Well, you've got your answers. Do make sure you pass those along at least! Goodbye!"

She turned and went after Tawny who had disappeared into the woods.

"Oh and do tell him to come visit me when he gets the chance! I have my bones with me!"

Blödhgarm decided not to ask about her bones but realized he had made a terrible mistake by not revealing more to the Dragon Rider. Leaning into a sprint, he ran back towards Du Belikrsolus, hoping to catch Eragon in the market or somewhere close by the city.

As he ran, he reached out to the minds of the birds that flew by, examining their recent memories very carefully to see if they had seen Saphira. He appreciated that birds could be used for this purpose but had to be careful not to think of her directly while inside their minds or they would occasionally fall from the air and expire on the ground. He tried to avoid that as much as possible and was generally successful.

Approaching the stone and vine walls surrounding the center of Du Bleikrsolus, Blödhgarm slowed to a hurried walk and expanded his mind wide. So far, he had not encountered an elfin who acknowledged his mind's touch or spoke to him this way and he was confident that there would be no trouble. Beyond that, Saphira's bright glow of mental energy was impossible to miss and he decided it would be the fastest way to reach out.

Not sensing her near the city, he wound back towards their caves. He continued examining the memories of the birds and was surprised to see that none of them had seen Saphira at all today. Hoping this wasn't a bad sign, he quickened his pace and arrived at their dwelling very shortly. He extended his mind but Saphira reached out to him first.

 _Today, we are resting,_ she told him.

Blödhgarm stopped where he was and knelt as he would in front of her in order to demonstrate great respect. _Saphira Svit-Kona,_ he began, _as soon as you are ready, it is urgent that we speak. And if I am not too late,_ he repeated Angela's warning, providing context and as much explanation as he could. _Eragon must not pursue Zi'Nawne._

Saphira sighed and roused her Rider. _It is too late._ She spoke softly and Blödhgarm was gripped with guilt.

 _You may come in, Blood Wolf._

Blödhgarm stood and entered slowly, eyes downcast and face fallen. Eragon was standing near Saphira and, aside from his red eyes, seemed quite alert and prepared for anything. He had learned the hard way that he had to be.

 _Tell us,_ Glaedr said slowly, _what you have learned from the witch._


	11. Grey Area

**Chapter 11**

 **Grey Area**

One long week had passed since Blödhgarm had told Eragon, Saphira, and the Eldunarí about his conversations with Tawny and Angela. The first step, of course, had been to tell them of Tawny and Angela. Eragon was more surprised than Saphira, who seemed to expect this behavior from the witch and had stopped asking "how" questions. They politely refrained from comment when Blödhgarm explained Tawny's appearance and they couldn't help noticing his own recent physical changes. His new amber eyes sparkled when he spoke of the werecat but no one said anything about it. Blödhgarm wouldn't have known what to say anyway.

They talked for a long time, discussing the suggestions Angela had made regarding setup and location and some of the information she had provided regarding the elfins. She had confirmed the suspicion that these elf-like creatures were the origins of the Grey Folk and explained that their name in Alagäesia was supposed to be a reminder that even the most colorful beings can lose everything to magic but since none of them survived their legacy—and the warning—was lost. This revelation was not surprising to Blödhgarm's party but still took some digesting to really accept. They moved on from that topic.

Blödhgarm shared all the information he could and the group decided to speak with Angela in person. They had packed up their meager belongings, unsure whether they would return to these caves and Eragon carefully avoided looking back, literally and figuratively. Saphira bemoaned the loss of her divot in the cave floor but decided that it wasn't particularly comfortable after all when Eragon reminded her of their lodgings in Du Welden Varden. Eragon promised they would take the time to sing a beautiful new home—for it would be their home—for everyone in their party and Blödhgarm agreed.

On his bed, Eragon left a carefully scripted note explaining that they were grateful for the hospitality but that it was time for his group to move on and begin work on their mission, relocating to a more suitable part of Stonrakr. He explained that his wishes were respectful and should he or his companions intrude on elfin territory, he hoped matters could be handled diplomatically and kindly, with best intentions on both sides. He did not give information as to where they would be relocating, and hoped sincerely that they would not meet again. Blödhgarm left a similar note on his own bed, explaining his gratitude and referring the reader to Eragon's letter for further information. He was particularly excited to be away from the elfins and when Eragon inquired simply explained that he looked similar enough that his differences were treated as disabilities rather than novelties.

When they arrived at the location Blödhgarm described and guided them to, they discovered that the cave where Tawny and Angela had been was empty and none of the walls were illusion detectable by physical or magical means. As Blödhgarm darted around frantically, feeling badly enough before and now worse having lost the people they needed, Eragon burst into laughter. His gales were sidesplitting, as apparent by the fact that he was quickly doubled over. Saphira looked shocked for a moment and then resigned when she saw in Eragon's mind what the source of his bout was. Saphira did not find it funny, apparently, although she considered Eragon's laughter rather amusing.

 _They have left._ She told a panicky Blödhgarm. _They have gone where Angela told us to go to ensure that we would heed her advice._

Blödhgarm looked between the two of them for a moment, processing this conclusion, before he too burst into laughter. The sound was so foreign to them that Saphira snorted, almost laughing, and Eragon completely stopped, staring in shock at his companion, before laughing even harder. By the time their gales subsided, they were both sitting on the floor and Saphira was laying down nearby, watching with amused eyes as a mother watches her kittens learning to walk straight.

Recognizing that their only course would be to heed Angela's advice, as she knew they must, they boarded Saphira and took off, flying for what felt like ages and no time at all as, it seemed to Eragon, riding a dragon always did. He enjoyed the cool salty air in his face and felt as though he was finally able to shake the feeling he'd been holding since meeting Zi'Nawne and the other elfins. He felt free for the first time since coming to Stonrakr and he understood that this was simply a challenge in his path up to this point and not a reason to turn tail and flee. They had come for the right reasons and they were doing the right thing and he was excited to begin, although nervous of course, too.

Although Eragon and Blödhgarm had excellent night vision, they relied on Saphira's which was far superior, as was her sense of direction and geography, and allowed her to guide them to their destination with relative ease, pouring bits of energy into her muscles and joints so that she did not tire. Finally, they arrived, cold and tired, on the rocky crags on the northernmost shore of Stonrakr. The area looked entirely uninhabited, despite the rather large dwelling of elfins not too far away, and Blödhgarm explained what Angela had told him.

"Apparently, this shore is completely inaccessible on foot and the waters near here are rough and churned from large rocks, so few people have tried to sail here. It's been visited and deemed unnecessary so they left it alone. To get in, you have to fly or have magic that the elfins don't have, although they could probably figure something out for a few of them to get in."

Eragon was thrilled. They had found some place safe, naturally protected from any species of magical and non-magical beings. As they landed on the precipice of a noteworthy cave in the center of the rock face overlooking the ocean, Eragon took note of the expanses of forest and in the time it took him to take a brief glance around noticed several large deer and some strange creatures that even Glaedr didn't have a name for in any language. They decided to call them Scoochers, and watched as they scooched around the beach, dragging their immense backend on small legs protruding from a bulky front end. Their heads were small and blubbery and they had orange hairs like mustaches on their face. Horns stuck out of the top of their heads and they swam quite well, coming up out of the water with a whole display of fish caught on their horns. Eragon decided they would not be fun enemies and made note to find out whether Saphira would like to eat them for population control.

They had spent time eating with Angela and Tawny after a very brief introduction to the latter and an even brief greeting to the former. They had dined on fruits and vegetables and Eragon tried some of the strange squishy things Angela called clams before politely excusing himself as a non-meat-eater after one bite.

 _I don't like those at all,_ he told Saphira.

 _Well of course you don't. Just look at them._ She eyed one distastefully, but changed her mind about them after Angela removed a few from the shells and insisted she tasted them.

 _Traitor,_ Eragon told her, laughing as she slurped up several more and licked the salty brine from her lips, snorting happily.

Now, sitting on the same cliff they had first alighted on, Eragon leaned his head back against Saphira's great blue leg and sighed, breathing in the ocean air and sweeping his gaze across the trees.

 _Du Welden Frethyen,_ he told Saphira, finally. _The Water Forest._

They surveyed the cove and agreed the name was apt. Saphira hummed quietly, appreciating that he had followed the naming conventions of the elves of Alagäesia and not the elfins of Stonrakr.

Most of the day had gone by with Eragon and Blödhgarm singing some of the trees into a suitable home, complete with a winding pathway to the ground. Together, and with the help of Saphira's dragon magic, the project had gone particularly well. They didn't comment on the potentially strengthened force of the magic they were accessing here, although both were aware of the environment's magical saturation. Every breath was imbued with magic. Whatever the case, the project had still taken them an entire day, and Eragon was amazed, considering how long it must have taken the elves to shape Ellesmera itself, let alone all of Du Welden Varden's other cities.

There was still much to be done; everything from furniture to rooms had been sung into shape but, but items for hygiene and comfort had not been completed and would take much time. Eragon thought of Islanzadí's feather cape, constructed from the feathers that freely fell from the birds to whom they originally belonged, and sighed. Creation of such things was much easier when he was willing to kill. They did have the advantage of Saphira, of course, who was willing to allow them to strip the fur and feathers from her kills for bedding, insulation, and other things.

One of the first considerations was logistical, and everyone had agreed that the dragons should have their home most comfortably in the caves that riddled holes in the rockface overlooking the water. It would be safest but it would also be the most comfortable. Some accommodations would be sung from the natural structures to allow for Riders to accompany their dragons as well as for nesting and other important activities, but for the most part the dragons would have reign over the natural structure.

 _Despite all our progress, my agitation is growing, Little One._ Saphira's confession troubled Eragon, who was used to seeing her as the very pinnacle of bravery and strength. _I am no less for my fear,_ she told him gently, _unless I let it control me._

 _I am glad you can tell me,_ he finally responded, _although I hate that I can't help._

She nuzzled against him gently. _You do help. What would I do without you?_

He smiled, knowing that she meant it sincerely despite her great strength and adaptability. _Or I without you?_

They sat together in silence for a while, enjoying the closeness they shared and the view they had.

 _I'm not going back,_ he told her, thinking of everything all at once. His head was swarming with faces, from Arya, Roran, and Nasuada, to Nawne, Ya'Mino, and Lanr. Each face struck its own unique chord with Eragon, creating the melody that was his life, cacophonous and harmonious in equal measures. He was grateful for his experiences and had come to realize that he could not go back and experience anything again. _Only forward._

Miles away, a ruler was belittled by her subordinate, and a scribe was the subject of ridicule.

"How could you let him go? How could you ruin our one chance? You say maga has returned, that we have hope in this pale man, and then you let him go?" Ya'Mino paced angrily, furious with the green woman in front of him. Eragon's note was clenched tightly in his fist and Lanr mopped his bloody nose in the corner, not daring to make eye contact.

"I couldn't have him," she explained, "he came to me and I could not have him."

Lanr flinched, worried that another beating would come, but Ya'Mino seemed to have released enough anger onto the scribe for now.

"This wasn't about you. If we move on from here and discover that our people still cannot breed, our race will die and it will be on your head and hands, Zi'Nawne. You have doomed us." He stormed out of the room, placing a hand against the wall as he left and allowing the torches in the hall to roar to extreme levels as he walked, viciously emphasizing each step.

"He will try to take your place, Nawne," Lanr spoke quietly, "you must not let me get in the way."

Without saying a word, a broken hearted ruler left the room, leaving her lover to follow someone she felt she didn't even know anymore.

Hours later, when they discovered Lanr's broken body on the grounds outside the window, Zi'Nawne could only blame herself, and the last shreds of her heart ripped. The luminescence of her eyes seemed to shift and her scars lengthened hugely. She became a shell of herself, ruled entirely by maga and grief. She wore gloves when stone began to crack and crumble at her touch, and boots when her steps did the same. She left drought in her wake, the earth dry and cracked wherever she walked.

"No one will get in my way," she told herself, remembering Lanr's last words. She wore a hat pinned with a great white feather and stared up at the moon, sure that it was staring back at two guilty people that night, and blaming a Dragon Rider as much as she blamed herself.


	12. Laughter Two Ways

**Chapter 12**

 **Laughter Two Ways**

Sweat poured off the limbs of the Dragon Rider and his blue and gold companion. Their brows contorted with effort and their fists clenched tightly. A muscle near Eragon's eye twitched and Blödhgarm's ears laid flat against his head. Their nostrils flared. Finally, they took a deep breath in and relaxed.

They finished singing.

"Is it always this much work? How did anyone survive creating Ellesmera?" Eragon asked, panting and taking a swig from his wineskin.

"There were several more voices," Blödhgarm responded, cocking his head and surveying their work. They had chosen to shape a training area for new Riders as they arrived in Du Welden Frethyen. The idea was a bit unorthodox compared to the training of the original Riders but they and the dragons agreed that some changes to the curriculum had to be made to accommodate lack of teachers. "and all were familiar with these ways." He eyed Eragon who still grumbled over the fact that they couldn't cut and construct the way humans did, although he understood the reasons and even agreed with them on principle.

Trees had been sung into a ring around the area and reinforced, preventing stray bits of magic, arrows, or swords, from escaping. Holes had been designed in the setup so that Eldunarí could be placed there and train with individual Riders, allowing for far greater education than Eragon and Blödhgarm could provide themselves.

They moved quickly through the work, having completed the design for the dragons' quarters, including area for paired and unpaired eggs to be kept and eventually hatched. Eragon was constantly concerned that an unpaired dragon hatchling would be coming any day, since there was so much more stability available now than ever before. He wasn't sure how to handle living alongside those dragons and was afraid that they might resent being left out of a bond with a Rider. But Saphira reassured him that the species would notwant all of its members to be bonded that way and that it would be for the best. One egg, a royal purple one, had started to shake, and they were certain it would hatch very soon.

Eragon eyed Blödhgarm speculatively, carefully wording the question he had been meaning to ask for a long time.

"No, Shur'tugal," the elf answered the unsplken question, knowing which way Eragon's mind would prod him, "although the honor of being a Rider would be immense, I do not feel shunted because I am not one." He stopped, considering a daisy at his feet and crouching to caress it. Eragon followed him to the ground and placed his hands in the grass, feeling the warmth of the energy there. "My role here," the elf finally spoke, turning his gaze upward and gesturing at the work they had completed, "is not as a Rider but as an advisor—and friend—to you and Saphira and the Eldunarí and the future Riders. If an egg hatched for me I would be a student and too preoccupied with that role to serve the cause in this one. No, Shur'tugal, I am not dissatisfied."

Eragon inclined his head, deciding it would be best to accept the elf at his word. He was surprised to realize that he actually did trust him, and smiled as they stood, wordlessly agreeing the time was right for lunch.

Saphira soared down to meet them as they approached Angela and Tawny's residence, a simple structure sung out of the trees. Eragon was sure the home's size was deceptive but decided he'd prefer not to know having long ago accepted Angela with all of her eccentricities. He greeted Saphira with a gentle brush of the mind as she landed.

 _The hunting here is good,_ she was practically dancing and her behaviour reminded Eragon of a puppy or a kitten, _and I had fun! The prey here are wonderfully fearful of dragons!_

Eragon smiled, rubbing beneath her jaw and viewing the images she showed him of deer and other creatures of the forest. _And you're sure having so many dragons here won't overtax the population?_

 _Quite sure,_ she said solemnly but still with excitement, _we could gorge for eons and never run out. They are plentiful and they are varied—they breed rapidly._

Eragon tried not to consider "breeding" and kept up his smile. _Are you eating more? You don't look too different yet._ They sent out a questioning thought to Glaedr and the other dragons, although typically only Glaedr responded.

 _She will not change physically much as she will lay an egg that is small relative to her body. However, Saphira you must make sure you eat more bones and hunt larger prey that have thicker bones. I know it is uncomfortable but the calcium is important for our body to develop the shell of the egg._ They were surprised to hear back from a female dragon, Coralia, one of those who had fallen early in Galbatorix's reign. Eragon supposed it made more sense for a female dragon to respond and he could feel Saphira's gratitude. _You will likely lay your egg in about three weeks._

Eragon was stunned. They had discussed this only a little bit but he felt like he was about to become a father, despite how ridiculous that was. He knew it was silly. But he was afraid. He thought of how worried he had been when Saphira had been small and the nightmares that had come with that. He swallowed, hard, and focused on Coralia's words as she explained the birthing process. He quickly wished he hadn't been paying attention and glanced helplessly at Blödhgarm who had been privy to the conversation since they had questioned the Eldunarí and saw his same expression matched his own feelings. He was grateful to not be alone and realized for the first time that he and Blödhgarm were each outnumbered and the species minority in the situation. Since coming to Stonrakr, each had been the only representative of their own species, and the realization was a heavy one.

 _You must decide soon, Saphira,_ Coralia's voice resonated heavily, darwing eragon and Blödhgarm back into the conversation, _whether your egg will be bonded. Eragon can perform the magic necessary to bond the egg to a Rider and when the first eggs return to Alagäesia on the ship that brings the first new Riders, you must decide whether yours will be on it._

To Eragon's surprise, Saphira's first thought was ferocious, imagining Fírnen meeting their baby before she did. However, she recognized that she would ultimately have more time with the child either way and quickly quelled the feeling. The decision was a hard one; she would never want anything but to be bonded with Eragon, but her mother had been a wild dragon and a big part of her wanted to have the same for her child. However, dragons' relationships with their offspring were quite different than those of other races and she had to consider how her exposure to humanoids had influenced her view of these relationships.

Eragon put a loving hand on Saphira's side and Blödhgarm politely looked away, allowing them the warmth of a private moment. Saphira understood Eragon's support without needing any words and she nipped his sleeve gently.

 _I love you, Little One._

 _I love you, too._ He smiled and they were happy. The moment was spoiled when his stomach grumbled and Blödhgarm laughed, surprising Eragon and Saphira with his newfound freeness.

"I'm starving!" He moved like he was dancing, the way the elves in Du Weldenvarden had, and ran towards Angela and Tawny's house.

Eragon and Saphira glanced at each other before following Blödhgarm, a lightness in their steps and hearts that they hadn't experienced for a long time. The witch's house smelled like damp mushrooms and earthy roots, as all of her dwellings always had, but the stew she had made, with cream for Tawny, was excellent and they shared the meal with gales of laughter, lots of smiles, and an easy familiarity that made Eragon feel like he had truly found a home. Together, they represented at least three species, maybe four, plus Saphira and the Eldunarí. But somehow they had become family and Eragon was grateful, suddenly, for everything he had experienced.

Throughout the meal, it seemed like Blödhgarm couldn't keep his eyes away from Tawny's small face. Eragon wondered whether the attraction was friendship, amazement, or something else, and couldn't help thinking whether a werecat-elf relationship would be possible.

"I'm glad we're not in the pact!" Tawny announced during a conversation about the new Riders, "I don't think very many werecats would want to be Riders, and doesn't it seem a little unfair? We already have two forms." Eragon was surprised by her reasonability but not, apparently, as much as Saphira.

 _I am glad, too._ She responded, _I don't think it would work well for either race and it's far more interesting getting to know you than having to talk everyday!_ Everyone laughed and Saphira snorted happily, licking the skin between her toes as part of her self-cleaning routine.

Tawny smiled, flashing her bright eyes and pointed teeth, and shifted into her cat form, crawling across the legs of those seated at the table in order to reach Saphira and crawl across her arms onto her back. They both purred and Eragon laughed, enjoying the image of two very cat-like creatures enjoying time together.

Blödhgarm seemed to glow, watching Tawny with big eyes and a small smile. He caught Eragon's gaze and shrugged, skewering a mushroom with his fork and popping it into his mouth cheerfully. Eragon shook his head and glanced at Angela, who was laughing.

 _Family,_ he decided, _is never really what you expect._

Saphira provided her perspective on the strange lumpy fleshy thing Roran and Katrina called a baby and agreed wholeheartedly. Eragon laughed and returned to his meal.

When the night ended, Saphira and Eragon left, circling overhead for a while before retiring to the hollow sung out for the two of them in the rockface above the ocean. Although they both enjoyed being on the ground in a tree-home, they also enjoyed the sounds of the ocean, and agreed that if they would be the default leaders of the Dragon Riders, they should have a position that emphasized that. Angela also went outside, muttering something about making a new star map.

"Can't seem to stay still but then nothing interesting every really does," she grouched, scooping up parchment, quill, and ink, and exiting the same way Eragon and Saphira had gone, using the dragon-sized entrance towards the beach.

Tawny, having returned to human form, watched Blödhgarm push a piece of roast potato around his shell plate for a while before finally speaking.

"I like you," she said.

He smiled softly, looking up to meet her stunning eyes. "I like you, too."

She purred gently and strolled out of the room, upstairs to where she slept in a small pillow basket near Angela's bed. He grinned and left, feeling much better than he had for a while. They didn't discuss anything, nor did they need to. They were practically immortal and they had all the time in the world to sort out whatever they wanted to sort out. Elves and werecats, lasting as they are, tended, it seemed, to be rather changeable, and it was better not to rush any decisions now.

He sung himself to sleep, growing a dark blue patch of himself into the creamy fur of his belly, as Angela the Herbalist marked down a new constellation of stars that seemed to dance around each other each night. _Elfcat_ , she wrote, positively cackling to herself as she rolled up the parchment and retired as well.

Zi'Nawne, growing restless, stared at the map she had pulled from the scribe's library.

 _The Scribe._ She thought carefully, preferring not to use his name again. She twitched, scratching her scars and twisting her neck around as she tried to concentrate.

Concentrating. That had been so hard recently.

Ya'Mino was mad.

Suddenly furious, she upturned the table, throwing the map on the ground and yowling.

Tears sprung from her eyes and she crumpled, picking up the map again and setting it on the table.

She twitched.

Everything was too much. Her people needed a better leader than she was. Her duty as a Guardian was too much.

She stared around the room and out the window, still crying.

The moon. The walls. Cold empty stone.

The night was rich with stars and sounds and maga rippled just beneath the barely controlled surface of her powers. She brushed an ungloved hand along the windowsill and watched as the surface began to crumble. She growled, remembering her twenty-year exile in the ruins of her former home.

And then she laughed. The moon was too close, watching and listening. The moon was too close as she crumbled. The moon was too close, shining light on her desperation.

And she laughed.


	13. Mirrors

**Chapter 13**

 **Mirrors**

Like diving into a pool of crystals, Zi'Nawne watched the flashes of color streak past her. A small part of her was aware that the streaks of color belonged to the elfins, her subjects, but mostly she was dazed, and simply watched. Her luminescence had increased recently and she positively glowed, particularly among the more earthy, rich colors of the others, and she stood out to everyone but herself. In her mind, she had become a shadow, a dark smudge on an otherwise colorful world. Her powers to crumble stone and earth had subsided at last but it seemed as though the rest of her abilities had, as well, and she felt weak.

 _A shell._ She decided. _I am a shell. But a shell of whom?_

She thought around Lanr, as she had learned to do when her mind naturally wandered towards him. She thought of parts of him—his color, his fur, his smile, his eyes, his humor—but never of him as a whole. Ya'Mino came to mind and her thoughts were full of contrast, with sharp blacks and whites and reds, just like him.

Inarguably, he was a beautiful specimen, handsome, full of strength and power, and would certainly make a great ruler alongside her, should they breed. However, he was also ruthless, punishing, and cruel. And she had decided that he had killed Lanr. Perhaps not physically, but if not for Ya'Mino's ruthlessness, Lanr would not have jumped.

Every part of Zi'Nawne hurt and it wasn't until she opened her eyes and saw the stars above her that she realized she had fainted in the dirt at the center of the market where she had sat with Eragon. Hate seethed in her chest when she thought of Eragon who was also, in her mind, to blame for Lanr's death, and perhaps more so because he was also responsible for Ya'Mino's rage. She pushed the thought aside and focused on controlling her spinning head and woozy stomach. Her clothes were shreds and she was cold so she pushed herself up and began the walk back to the room she had been sleeping in the castle.

Empty scared faces watched her go and her clothes began to glow from the strength of their thoughts, aimed pointedly in her direction.

"Bah!" She shouted, turning on a woman with deep blue fur and heavily lidded white eyes, like pearls. The woman squeaked and ran off, fur bristling.

Satisfied, Zi'Nawne continued her walk, stopping in the map room, deciding to spend time examining Stonrakr's map again, hoping to pinpoint where Eragon would have gone. She scratched her scars and rolled her neck, making small marks on a piece of paper she'd laid out next to the map she referred to most often. Rows of scrawling print already covered the first half of the page equally encouraging—I must be getting close!—and discouraging—nothing so far!—but she was persistent.

_X_X_

Eragon marked another day in the book he had kept for this purpose and smiled at Saphira, who was rolling around in the hot sand below him on the beach.

 _Normally,_ she told him excitedly, _I wouldn't besmirch my scales with dirt like this. But it's so warm! It's like when we went through the Hadarac Desert! And it doesn't stick so the wind shall clean me soon enough._

Eragon just smiled wider, not saying anything. He put the book away and put his hands on his hips, breathing in the warm air. Everything was peaceful, he realized, and he was happy. He wondered when Nasuada would send him word that a dragon had hatched and found himself checking his mirror often to see if she would summon him.

He cast a glance across the clearing and observed Blödhgarm and Tawny enjoying a game of chase, an amusing past time to watch, and Angela smacking a large mushroom with a flat rock. He thought at first that she was trying to pierce the skin of the fungus but realized quickly that she was intentionally bruising its meat and rubbing herbs into the oils she drew to the surface. Shaking his head, he called out to Saphira and climbed aboard her back when she arrived, giddy.

Brushing the sand from his perch, he frowned.

 _This sand is dangerous for me,_ he told her, _it's slippery and gritty. I'm afraid that it would injure me if we were flying a great distance._ He imagined the chafing of sandy scales against his legs and…everything else.

 _I'll be more careful. Humans are so fragile!_ She snorted and launched them into the air, drifting gently to the ground in large circles and not flapping her wings. They landed on the soft moss just past the sandy beach, and Eragon jumped down, surveying the work they had done. Du Welden Frethyen was completed as far as structures for the small group present went and expansions were well underway.

Eragon hoped that they would hear of a new Rider before everything was finished so that none of the group became bored. Angela had begun to work on developing a garden system so that Riders could learn about important herbs but also so that they could more easily sustain the food needs of a larger group and had planted several kinds of vegetables. A cave provided their mushroom supply, as well as some roots that grew best in the cooler environment the cave provided, and plants that needed more sunlight were placed right outside the mouth.

The structure that had been designated for books, scrolls, and other academic pursuits now included the map Blödhgarm had been working on and many blank scrolls. Eragon hoped that when Nasuada contacted him, he would be able to show her their progress and request any available literature be sent to them, as well as maps of Alagäesia and information about that part of the world so that Riders he sent back would not be completely ignorant about their homeland. He had spent a lot of time imagining various scenarios involving the next Rider and wondering what their race would be.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Eragon!" Angela called, pulling his attention back to the present, "your mirror is active. It does appear that someone is trying to contact you." She pointed at the handmirror he kept tied to his rucksack and his heart leapt, a wild thought of Arya flitting through his mind before he pulled himself together.

Grabbing the mirror, he uttered the spell that released the magic blocking unwanted contact—or unexpected contact—and smiled brightly, happy to see a very healthy and glowing Nasuada.

"Your Majesty!" He exclaimed, excited.

"Eragon," she smiled, inclining her head, ever so formal, but her sparkling eyes betrayed her excitement. He was happy to see that her bandages had mostly been removed and the marks of her torture were largely healed. Although she was attempting strict control of Alagäesia's magic users, she had also clearly benefitted from them. Eragon didn't point this out, but bowed instead, the effect lost a bit since he carried the mirror down with him.

They exchanged pleasantries and Eragon was pleased to discover that she was happy and that Jörmundur had been a steadfast friend, companion, and guard. Her nightmares had largely subsided and she was hopeful, having heard rumours of a red dragon and its Rider living happily in the mountains, although no one was quite sure which ones. He spent some time taking her around to each of the structures and giving a brief tour, explaining the functions briefly so as not to provide too much information about the Riders to any one monarch, although Arya certainly would already know more than Nasuada did. Finally, they came to the point of the contact, and Nasuada inclined her head cautiously before beginning.

"What we have waited for has happened," she told him, "more than once."

Eragon couldn't hide his surprise. More than one dragon egg had hatched? Saphira, watching and listening through Eragon, was equally surprised. He was thrilled, thinking of the elves, dwarves, urgals, and humans he had met, wondering how they must be celebrating.

"Nasuada!" He exclaimed, demanding more information. Twenty-two of the eggs with Eragon and his party were destined for Riders and he was excited to send more of them back to Alagäesia to find their matches. He knew that many would not hatch for years and he and the leaders of the races had agreed that if an egg did not hatch within a year, it would be sent back and kept for a while, replaced with a different egg that would circulate Alagäesia in search of its Rider.

"Staug, a dwarf, bonded with a red dragon, much to the surprise of his hermit father." Nasuada paused, allowing the implications of the situation to sink in, and Eragon remembered the hermits he had seen during his time in the Beor Mountains, who had hidden in abandoned levels of rocky corridors. Eragon nodded, indicating that he understood, "and Tulgrog, an urgal, bonded with a white dragon. Both are prepared to join you in—"

"Du Welden Frethyen, on Stonrakr."

"yes, Du Welden Frethyen, as soon as you are prepared to receive them. Tulgrog will not be able to ride for some time as his dragon must grow much larger than Staug's before it can support him."

"Does either dragon have a name yet?"

"Not to my knowledge."

He nodded again.

"I need to show you a map. It is very important that when they arrive, they do not land where we landed. They will not be able to sail into our location, however, and it might be best to wait until both can fly."

Nasuada nodded.

 _This time together will be important for their development and their bond, too,_ Saphira added, and Eragon voiced her comment to Nasuada since the distance would not allow Saphira to project her thoughts directly to the Queen of Alagäesia, who agreed with the sentiment.

"It will take time for them to make the appropriate preparations and travel to the port you sailed from," Nasuada told them, "although I am concerned they may inadvertently discover magic before then."

"Who will escort them? Will they come on the same ship and with the same crew as we came?"

"Indeed."

"Then perhaps I can provide the map for you and you might have a mage copy it and provide it to the crew? They should be able to understand our drop-off information better."

Nasuada's mouth hardened as she considered the next steps, but ultimately agreed.

The rest of the conversation focused on logistics and requests from both parties and when they parted, Eragon felt strangely empty.

 _I thought I would feel…MORE. But I feel empty._

 _We still have a long ways before we will meet these new Riders, and neither of them is of your own race. Both of these things make the revelation a bit anticlimactic._

 _Although it means the magic worked and the inclusion of these races was a good thing._

 _That is yet to be seen. However, it means the dragons were willing, as well._

Eragon agreed and shared the news with Angela and Blödhgarm and a mostly distracted Tawny who was pushing a fish around a bucket. Although they were all excited, Eragon could see that they felt the same strange feeling he did. Blödhgarm excused himself for nearly three hours and Angela returned quickly to her mushrooms—she was on the third now—saying she wanted to make sure they were all prepared for dinner.

The day went on as normal.

When night fell and they sat down for dinner, however, Eragon discovered that it had been far from normal. Angela prepared a scrumptious dinner with succulent mushrooms, roots, tarts, and more, having decided to prepare much more food and much more than simply roasted plants than usual. Tawny had mixed cream and berries and had Blödhgarm help her to magically freeze the product, calling it ice cream and insisting that it was a delicacy, a statement everyone agreed with when they tried it. Blödhgarm himself had brought a gift as well—two barrels of spiced alcohol. He didn't know what it was but Blödhgarm warned it would likely be more potent than usual beverages since he had made it from song and spice so quickly.

Saphira was also excited and they got quite drunk and quite happy. Eragon thought of the feasts he had shared with dwarves and urgals and elves and humans and was excited, realizing that soon they would have a race of dragons, not just the three that currently walked the world. Their smiles stuck and they ignored Blödhgarm's warning of potency, enjoying their time. Saphira was careful not to drink too much as Glaedr warned her it could cause heartburn and pregnancy complications.

Eragon felt bad that he had not thought to prepare anything for this celebration, and stood up, concentrating on the ancient language and raising his hands, eyes closed. Saphira, seeing what he intended, lent him her strength and abilities, widening his vision of what he wanted. They considered Zi'Nawne's comment that his magic was strongest when linked to fire, and played on that connection, tossing around ideas for how best to perform what they sought to perform.

Finally, Eragon decided that he simply wanted the night to blaze, with the fires of the dragons and the fires in their hearts and throats.

" _Istalrí!_ " He finally bellowed, pouring magic into the word for fire that avoided his sword bursting into flames, and watching as pillars of flame erupted, crackling and emitting the music that burned in their memories from feasts they had attended. Linking all of his ideas to the idea of burning, he had been able to use one single word to create musical and light entertainment for the group and the altered yäwe he and Blödhgarm and Saphira had created danced through the flames.

He sat, satisfied, and turned to see the faces of his companions, surprised when they reflected shock. Angela sat back in her chair, staring with disbelief at the display, and Blödhgarm's face was contorted with fear and respect. Even Tawny sat quietly, watching.

"What?"

No one said anything for a long time until Blödhgarm finally stood and bowed.

"I supposed we need a ruler here, too. Every race has a king or queen, and it seems the King of Du Welden Frethyen is you. You are stronger than I realized, Shur'tugal."

"I'm just for the Riders," Eragon stammered.

"No, because I am here and Angela is here, and we are not Riders. And Tawny. You are much more than that. Consider us your lieges."

"But Arya Dröttning, and Queen Nasuada," he responded, "You already have monarchs."

"Eragon Könungr," Blödhgarm said quietly touching his fingers to his lips.

"King Eragon," Angela agreed, "also magic is hard and neither of us could have done that. It's beautiful!" She clapped, unperturbed when no one joined her.

Without meaning to and despite the pressure in his chest, Eragon found himself smiling and Saphira snorted happily alongside him.

 _You will be great. You and Saphira will rule with strength and wisdom as Vrael and I did before._ The voice of Umaroth echoed through all their minds, stunning Eragon back into humility and he felt honored. He poured out his gratitude through his thoughts and the flames danced accordingly.

"Cheers!" Angela announced, taking a swig of Blödhgarm's drink—the beverage and his actual cup—getting a laugh from Tawny and a smirk from the blue and amber elf as he reached across the table for Eragon's cup and repeated the gesture. Tawny trumped them when she transformed into her cat shape and strolled across the table, drinking directly from the top of Angela's cup and knocking her own onto the floor.

They erupted into bouts of giggles and the Eldunarí enjoyed the giddy feelings of their minds, joining with them in their celebrations and makeshift coronation. Eragon thought to vow his life to the service of these people and the Riders but Saphira reminded him that his deeds had gotten him here and his deeds sufficed as proof of his commitment. He agreed, grateful to get out of a speech.

_X_X_

Three women cried that night, thinking of Eragon.

Zi'Nawne cried out of madness and loss, thinking of Eragon and Lanr.

Arya cried out of heartache, missing and thinking of Eragon and her subjects.

Nasuada cried out of grief, thinking of Eragon and Murtagh.

Each queen felt quite differently about Eragon, but each felt equally that their worlds revolved around the not-quite-human Rider and his glorious blue dragon.


	14. The Small Things

**Chapter 14**

 **The Small Things**

Eragon opened his eyes and smiled up at the veiny blue sky above him, enjoying the sound of the great heartbeat that thundered beside his head. He thought he might awaken the slumbering dragon before deciding that it would be better to sleep in and enjoy their time together. He reminisced, thinking of their time in the Hadarac and every moment together since her hatching and his smile grew. He was grateful for their bond. As he thought about it, his excitement grew and he couldn't help waking her up.

 _Saphira!_

 _I know Little One,_ she grumbled, clearly preferring to sleep in longer than Eragon had allowed.

 _How could you possibly know?!_

 _Because your mind opens when you're excited._ She replied simply, _Yes. I am excited for the arrival of the Dragon Riders, too._

_X_X_

The plans had been set and the course had been decided. The golden ship rocked across a still sea and a crew of elves and mages moved about the stared up at the Tulgrog and Tulgrog stared down at Staug.

"Bit strange, isn't it?" Tulgrog finally said with a heavy accent, "did you really think there'd be any Riders who were dwarves or urgralgra?"

"No," Staug finally responded, his accent equally thick although quite different. So much more came to mind but he didn't feel like he could say any of it. The bittersweet feeling he'd felt when the egg had hatched for him and his father's coldness as he watched him become a Rider. He looked forward to flying but was afraid that he would fall and agreed with Grimstnzborith Orik that dwarves belonged on the ground.

However, watching Hûnzorl spread his wings and glow the brilliant red of the deepest flames in Farthen Dûr, he couldn't help be proud. He was so proud of his dragon and was glad, when he met Tulgrog, that he didn't seem to be alone in his fears and delights. Both of them stayed by their dragons' sides constantly and both seemed in no hurry to fly. Of course, Tulgrog's milky white dragon, Vezh, wouldn't be able to carry her Rider for a long time.

"Do they seem different to you?" Staug asked as the two Riders watched their dragons playing together. He wondered what Eragon had felt when he had become a Rider, alone and thinking that the Riders were extinct and his nerves kicked in again, wondering what it would be like to be under the king killer's tutelage. Meeting Nasuada had been terrifying enough—the Queen of Alagäesia!—but now they were sailing across the ocean to meet Eragon Shadeslayer, Argetlam

"They seem more like us." Tulgrog agreed, admiring the denser muscle build developing in Vezh's arms and shoulders and the sturdiness and balance of Hûnzorl.

As the rest of their journey progressed, the Riders bonded not only with their own dragons but with each other and they agreed that the best of their lives remained before them. Laughter danced freely from their lips and the heartiness of their friendship was great. Hûnzorl and Vezh often amused themselves by trying to outperform the other in aerial maneuvers and tricks and their Riders practiced combat, teaching each other the techniques of their own people and learning their advantages and disadvantages. The height difference made the combat quite amusing and they enjoyed the exertion after having spent so much of the first part of the ship ride in relative silence.

Thus it was that when they arrived in Stonrakr and met Eragon and Saphira—who had decided with their party that it was best to meet the Riders alone—they were amazed by the shadeslayer and his dragon entirely, not absorbed by the impressions they made on each other. Eragon wasn't sure how to handle this attention and Saphira laughed inside his head, indulging a bit in her vanity and enjoying the moment.

They had agreed to meet east of Du Welden Frethyen, on the opposite side of Stonrakr from Nierbölr and a safe distance from the inhabitants of Du Bleikrsolus. The sun had risen just shortly before they arrived and Eragon and Saphira were shining beacons on the shore. Saphira's scales glowed brilliantly—she was pleased to have discovered the buffing effects of rolling in the sand, a further reason to continue the habit in her mind—and Eragon had dressed in his finest elven jerkin. He had chosen not to shave the past few days to ensure the new Riders that he was, in fact, human, despite his pointed ears sticking out from beneath his mess of brown hair.

The dwarf, the urgal, and two dragons disembarked the ship behind an elf with beautiful white tendrils etched across her otherwise porcelain face. Eragon approached the elf who quickly uttered the formal greeting, to which he responded appropriately. He had wished desperately it would have been someone he knew, anyone he had met during his time with the Varden, Blödhgarm's spellcasters, or Du Welden Varden. He wondered for a moment if denying Blödhgarm this opportunity had been wise but Saphira reminded him quickly that the elf had even suggested this arrangement.

 _Perhaps he is not ready to show his new appearance off,_ she suggested, acutely aware of the effect one's physical looks could have. Eragon shrugged and smiled at the elf, exchanging pleasantries as he passed off two more eggs for her to take back to Alagäesia. He inclined his head and the elf returned to the ship after a deep bow in Saphira's direction. He wished he had thought to give her a note to pass on to Arya but decided she would probably prefer he didn't try to contact her right now. Shaking his head and returning his thoughts to the situation at hand, he took a steadying breath and returned to the Riders, standing awkwardly on the shore.

"Staug, knurla jurgencarmeitder, the first dwarf Dragon Rider," Eragon greeted the stout young man with a customary gesture—a closed fist clamped tightly against the chest—and smiled, "and Tulgrog, urgralgra skazreg ruk, the first urgal Dragon Rider," and he raised his head, baring his throat to the young urgal in his best demonstration of respect. He was grateful for Angela's familiarity with urgal language and culture and could see from their expressions that he had conveyed what he meant to.

The two Riders stared, shocked, and stammered, trying to respond but neither of them was sure whether they should use human greetings or elven ones and in any case they were unfamiliar with either.

"I am Eragon, although I will be Ebrithil Eragon and this is Ebirthil Saphira while you are here. You will learn the Ancient Language—Ebrithil is master—and I will do my best to learn your languages fluently. Your cultures will be respected and encouraged but we will also be forming a new culture, that of the Riders. And we are doing so alongside others, of course."

 _Hello,_ Saphira began, projecting her thoughts into all of their heads. Eragon watched the white and red dragons bow slightly, an act of humility he had not previously witnessed from a dragon. He was surprised how small they were and smiled remembering Saphira that size. She snorted at him and continued, _we will work hard and learn much. We will not settle for less than that. Come. We shall fly our Riders home._

They had carefully chosen a location where flight was easiest but not necessary, as they could all wade through the water to Du Welden Frethyen, except perhaps Staug for whom the waters would be too high.

The dragons were silent for a moment before Hûnzorl finally spoke up.

 _We have never flown with our Riders,_ he said quietly.

Saphira turned a ferocious blue eye on the dragon, daring him—or perhaps pushing him—to stand up for himself.

 _But I can see, since you have not guarded your minds at all, that you have practiced many aerial maneuvers. Surely you want to fulfill the whole part? If Staug is the "Rider" part of "Dragon Rider," then surely you must be the dragon. So carry him. Your Rider is small._

Eragon was disappointed to see Staug shrink into himself. He wondered for a moment if Saphira was too harsh before remembering the beginning of his own training with Brom and decided that harsh was better than soft.

 _Your Rider is large,_ she continued, addressing the white dragon, Vezh, _but you should—_

 _I will carry him, Ebrithil Flametongue. Let us Ride._

Saphira turned her great blue eye on Vezh, looking slowly between her and her Rider. Neither of them shrank and Eragon fervently hoped it was out of respect and bravery rather than defiance.

 _Very well. Let us fly._

Eragon pulled two softly padded saddles from the pack on Saphira's and helped each Rider fit it to their dragon. Although both admitted they had spent some time sitting aboard their dragon, neither was keen to receive the same scars Eragon mentioned he had gotten, and they were happy to take the saddles.

The flight was smoother than expected and they arrived shortly in Du Welden Frethyen. Together, Eragon and Saphira introduced the new Riders to their residences, where wood had been provided for Tulgrog to carve any totems he desired, as per the custom of his people, and stone for Staug to do with as he pleased. They had tried very hard to ensure that each home suited its residence but hoped that the Riders would learn in due time how to shape their own homes.

Angela introduced herself, delighting Tulgrog with her fluent urgralagra and Staug with her knowledge of mushrooms and types of stone. Eragon was grateful she had come and for a moment almost wondered how she had arrived at all, before remembering he had decided not to question it. Angela, as if reading his mind—and perhaps she was—winked at him before excusing herself.

Blödhgarm and Tawny introduced themselves next and it seemed to Eragon that they introduced themselves together. But of course he was never sure. He wondered if Blödhgarm was the first elf the Riders had seen and he stifled a laugh at Tulgrog's expression when he observed the blue and amber wolf-like man and his tiny feline companion.

Finally, Saphira crouched, facing Vezh and Hûnzorl.

Wasting no words, she provided images of the prey they would be hunting and their habits. She included various types of creatures including those in the forests, the caves, and the shore. She conveyed information that Eragon knew from experience any careful hunter would make use of, and wondered why she told them so much before realizing that they likely hadn't hunted much before.

 _I want to see what they'll do. They are dragons and they will succeed, but let them not be afraid of their own individualities._ She thought of the snalgri they had eaten on their trip to the Vault of Souls. O _r preferences._

They flew off together and Eragon noticed that Vezh immediately soared upwards, high over the forest, circling like a hawk searching for a mouse. When she dove after a deer and ripped the animal cleanly in half, Eragon decided that perhaps her size was no demonstration of her strength. Hûnzorl quickly took off for the caves and Eragon sensed through his link with Saphira the images of rodents and other cavedwellers of the like he had likely eaten in the Beor Mountains. He wondered whether their colouring would help them at all with their hunting habits and thought of the fear he had sensed in animals who could recognize Saphira for what she was despite her sky-colored wings.

 _No, Eragon, no creature can hide from us, nor can we hide from any creature._ She snorted happily and jumped, opening her wings and soaring low over the forest, going in for a much cleaner kill than Vezh had taken. Vezh sent images of the bears and wild boars that had lived near where she had hatched with Tulgrog and Saphira answered the inquiry.

 _I have not seen these creatures here, but I have not looked. It is likely that we will find many new things._

Eragon turned his attention back to Staug and Tulgrog, who were chatting and picking at the meal they had been provided. He stared, surprised.

 _Neither of them is aware._ He remembered his first lesson with Oromis and Glaedr, when he and Saphira had been chastised for being unaware of the other's lesson.

 _Yes, Eragon, it was quite shocking for us, too._ Glaedr's voice echoed in his head and Eragon bowed his head slightly, humbled.

"Where did your partners hunt?" Both of the Riders stared at him blankly and Eragon watched as each of them mentally turned to their dragons and searched for the answer. They struggled with the words and Eragon appreciated Saphira's foresight in using pictures and images instead of words.

 _It was not for this,_ Saphira responded, amused, _although it worked quite well. I am an excellent teacher._

Eragon stifled a laugh, remembering that he was teaching an important lesson.

"You must learn to be connected to each other at all times. You are aware of each other's thoughts as you are aware of your arms or your hands—you know they are there, you know what they are doing, you know the intimate details of them, but you do not lose focus over other things in order to know these details."

"Yes, Ebrithil," they said together, Staug timidly and Tulgrog determinedly.

"I want to see what you are both capable of, but I will not claim to be able to properly test an urgal or a dwarf. So we will start small."

All four of the students quickly learned that "starting small" meant something quite different to them than it did to Eragon Kingkiller and Saphira Brightscales. Indeed, starting small might have meant learning a few words of the Ancient Language, but instead meant learning to read from a dictionary scroll. Eragon was pleased that they were each familiar with reading and writing, although neither was particularly comfortable in the common speech of Alagäesia.

 _At least,_ Eragon thought, watching them struggle to spell "brisingr" and "Du Welden Frethyen", _they are both on the same page. This would be more difficult if one were an elf and one an urgal. Although,_ he remembered the elf who had tormented him in Du Welden Varden, _the competition might be beneficial._ He decided to add that to his curriculum, shaped anew each day with the help of everyone present.

Furthermore, "starting small" might have meant learning to control their minds. Instead, it meant learning to open their minds wide and sit quietly in the forest for hours, a past time neither of the Riders particularly enjoyed, and closing their minds tightly, forcing out unwanted intruders. This they enjoyed more as it allowed them to experience the strength of their dragons who lent enormous strength to the efforts. Until, of course, they were challenged, too.

All of the students were sore and grumpy by the end of their first week in Du Welden Frethyen, but their spirits lifted quickly when Eragon and Blödhgarm held a conversation in front of them in the Ancient Language regarding an upcoming feast to celebrate their arrival. Unbenknownst to the students, this conversation was staged and—although the feast did happen—they were more excited to have been able to understand most of what was discussed.

_X_X_

Ya'Mino sat quietly, enjoying the silence that had fallen over the castle in Du Bleikrsolus. He had not returned to his cave for a few nights, preferring to bask in the gloom that hovered whenever Zi'Nawne was around. Part of him, albeit a small part, almost felt bad for her plight. But when he witnessed the fervor she had plunged into and the quickness with which revenge sprang to her lips, he settled into comfort instead. Her wailing had been unbearable but ceased a few days after Lanr's death, and he had been able to focus on his own work.

Peering across a table littered with notes and diagrams, he struggled furiously to unlock the key to the powers Eragon seemed to possess.

 _Full of fire!_ He scoffed, remembering Nawne's excited words about the pale faced man. He was glad she didn't say anything about him anymore, let alone anything good.

In the ruined libraries of Nawne's former home, Ya'Mino had discovered scrolls that seemed to include information about a new world where ancient people had sailed. He wondered idly why anyone would leave Stonrakr and its powerful colors.

 _Anywhere else,_ he decided, _would simply be grey._


	15. New Beginnings

**Chapter 15**

 **New Beginnings**

Angela sat quietly. She watched waves crash and thought of the wars she'd been in. Her hands were cupped together holding the same dragon knuckle bones she'd used in Terim. The corner of her mouth tightened, as if she smiled and frowned at the same time.

She had predicted Eragon's permanent departure from Alagäesia. Or rather, the bones had. The fates had. But had they been right? He wasn't the same person he was when he left her shop that day, nor was she the same woman who had cast the bones. She thought of Solembum only briefly as his departure had upset her, although she was glad that he was expecting a litter with one of the female werecats and that he had decided to stay with her, but couldn't help feeling a bit abandoned. Tawny was nice, though, and she appreciated the company.

She shook the bones in small movements, whispering over them. There was no magic but the strength of her feelings still caused a glow. She closed her eyes, trying not to let anything slip and focusing on the bones. The waves seemed to swell and crash harder and the frothy seawater sloshed her toes. Fear gripped her and she concentrated harder, remembering the last time she had cast the bones for herself. Many memories came to mind and she tried to push down the bright colors of her childhood, the familiar outline of Du—

NO.

Stop.

Her hands stopped, closing tightly around the bones. The movement of her lips stopped and her gaze shifted from the ocean to the stars as the waves settled back into their regular pattern. She put the bones back into the coinsack on her belt, tucking the little purse into the heavy material of her skirts. Drawing her bare feet back towards her, she slipped them into her boots and stood, not bothering to dust off the sand that clung to her, and took one last look at the seas.

Longing gripped her and she could almost feel the rough, chaotic power of the ocean. She interlocked her fingers and tucked her hands under her arms, withdrawing into herself. She took a moment to regain the perfect, practiced control she had learned to maintain and drew her sights back towards the woods, returning to her wooden home with careful steps in the silent night.

_X_X_

Eragon sat cross legged in the woods, meditating deep outside himself. His attention was drawn to everything and nothing and he allowed thoughts of his students to drift across his mind, not focusing on any one thing too intently. His muscles felt loose and stretched, having recently completed the Rimgar, and he wondered how he might adapt the stretches for the different races of Riders.

He knew that Oromis and Glaedr had taught Saphira and him well but their methods were meant for elves and he hadn't been totally human for very long. He wasn't even sure how he would have progressed through their lessons without the changes that took place during the agaetí blödhren. Much of his time was spent in close communication with the Eldunarí, who would be instrumental in the education of the new Riders. But he alone was a Rider and none of the dragons could perfectly guide the education of new Riders, despite the close connection they had shared with their own. He pondered and breathed and sought inspiration from the life he encountered.

He watched with his mind as birds instructed their young, carefully demonstrating proper flight techniques, allowing them time to practice movements and improve their muscles, before ultimately pushing them from their homes and forcing them to fly. Spiders and did not teach their young but each became successful, ultimately using their instinct to guide them. Ants were not explicit, but taught their young by rigorous example and discipline. The larger forest hunters taught their young by example and by competition and play, but their prey taught through the forced education always granted to those who were hunted.

Eragon had himself been hunted when he learned to use magic and when he learned to fight. He knew the same rigor could not be forced upon his students as there was no way to provide the same experience. He remembered the time spent struggling to make a stone fly by day and collecting bruises from a wooden sword at night. He had suffered greatly and grown greatly and could not begin to imagine where to begin a more laid back method of training.

He thought of his sword and wondered how the new Riders would acquire theirs. He thought of the Name of Names and wondered whether he could create new weapons for his Riders, designed for the role of guardian he hoped they would serve as in Alagäesia, while also being fit for war should greater fighting become necessary. Use of the Name of Names seemed too risky and he hoped fervently that another solution would present itself.

When he finally opened his eyes, hours had passed and Saphira had returned, politely hunting far enough away that he could avoid being part of the death of her prey. He had not mentioned this to the students, remembering how long it had been until Oromis had explained the connection—and power source—that other living creatures could be. Vezh and Hûnzorl had made fast friends on the trip to Du Welden Frethyen and Saphira found that instructing them together was extremely taxing. She had begun hunting alone, allowing them to do so as they pleased, and taking them into the woods to explain flying, fighting, Rider care, and relevant botany later in the day.

They had been able to fashion it so that several Eldunarí accompanied her each day, including Glaedr and Coralia, the female dragon that had provided Saphira with pregnancy advice although they had agreed to keep that piece of information away from the students for now. She was due to lay her egg any day now and still had not informed Eragon about her decision as to whether the egg would go to the Riders or not. He had not pried and her conversations with the Eldunarí about the issue were kept private. These voices were extremely helpful and all of them appreciated the opportunity to interact with other dragons.

There had been a lot of discussion regarding whether the Riders should be made aware of their dragons' Eldunarí and when, since the first order of Riders had kept this information from students until they had trained for years. However, they agreed that these Riders were in the unique situation of only meeting Eldunarí who were suffering the loss of their bodies and their Riders, and they were certain that this would dissuade the premature disgorging of Eldunarí from the young dragons. Additionally, the benefit of having more experienced voices involved in the training was too invaluable to do without.

Magic, however, was not being discussed much. Both Riders had seen Eragon perform magic, both in Alagäesia and on Stonrakr, and had asked about magic first thing. Luckily, neither was actually aware of the nub of magic in their minds. They had not yet learned to see past the new link to their dragons and take inventory of their new powers. Eragon wondered whether their magic would be the same as the magic of the elf and human mages and Riders.

When Eragon returned to the students, they were engaged in conversation with Angela about herbs and potions—a skill they had decided would be helpful for the new Riders to learn. He watched for a while before Angela finally ended their session.

"Since Eragon has been so patient, I suppose I shall let you go on." She stood, smiling at him.

"Dare I ask how you heard me approach? No one ever hears me approach and your back was turned."

She opened her mouth to say something witty and turned again, pointing at a shiny silver kettle on the table. "Your reflection, Rider, requires no ears to notice."

Had anyone else responded thusly, he would have blushed, embarrassed. As it was, he simply smiled and bowed mockingly. "Ah, and of course I should have known better than to even ask."

"Well, of course, you didn't really want to know anyway, did you?" She shrugged at Staug and Tulgrog, "People always ask things they don't want to know. Humans and elves especially. I'm glad you two aren't like that." She grunted, somehow managing a sound that was entirely urgal-like and entirely dwarf-like, and both Riders smiled.

Eragon shook his head and led the students to the dirt clearing they had agreed to practice combat in. They had discussed for a long time how best to achieve this training, as Eragon's experience had told him that their strengths were entirely unmatched. Although Eragon and Blödhgarm were easily stronger than either an urgal or a dwarf, their statures made the fight totally unique and particularly challenging when they were pitted against each other. For that reason, it was decided that the students must practice combat against all of their possible opponents. They would fight Blödhgarm as the elf representative, Eragon as the Rider, Angela as the human—although they still weren't entirely certain of that-, and Tawny as the werecat, as well as each other. This would provide them opportunity to train against some of the best fighters of every race.

They had begun with hand-to-hand combat, and Tulgrog had looked particularly uncomfortable when instructed to fight Tawny. Eragon had placed wards on each fighter, particularly on the experienced fighters who may find themselves on the unhappy end of the first use of magic the Riders wielded. Carefully protected, the fights began, Tulgrog against Tawny and Staug against Blödhgarm. Eragon felt it was best to save Angle auntil they had had more experience as she would likely terrify them more than teach them.

He watched, doing his best to provide verbal critique to the students and mental notes and observations for the experienced fighters, who used his insight to exploit vulnerabilities and force the students to defend themselves. Tulgrog had the easiest time accepting that it was time to fight, as his people fought often. However, he became frustrated easily and had trouble maintaining disciplined control of himself, preferring to release an echoing bellow and shake his ferocious head where Tawny often sat, clinging to his horns and laughing. Eragon made a note to work on flexibility with the urgal, to improve his chances of performing some maneuver that would allow him to defend from this attack, although it wasn't one many others would try to use against him.

Staug's greatest asset was his stockiness and he seemed to cling to the ground with incredible balance and stability. It was nearly impossible for Blödhgarm to push him over and the dwarf remained on his feet for nearly the entire battle. However, his stature certainly worked against him as he could hardly reach anything worth attacking on Blödhgarm and they had discussed that below-the-belt hits were unacceptable for training. Eragon thought of the attacks he had encountered from Az Sweldn rak Anhûin and thought perhaps Staug could learn similar acrobatic techniques.

They also spent time with mental combat, learning to feel the differences in the minds of various individuals. Tulgrog described each mind as having its own flavor and used his own word "ahgrat" to describe it.

"It is," he explained when asked for a translation, "it simply is that individual."

Additionally, they trained to control their emotions when attacked and Eragon taught them the same method he had been taught—to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all else and build a wall out of that. Roran had been successful when he had focused on his love for Katrina and he had been most successful when he focused on Saphira's scales or some other aspect of her. He remembered attempting to fill his mind solely with Arya but found that the conflict in his heart represented itself in a shoddy mental wall.

Since then, he had learned to form a strong wall just of his own strength without needing to focus on anything physical in front of him. However, the method was a suitable one for training and Eragon felt it was a good lead into eventually learning magic. They had spent a lot of time training in the ancient language and were able to have some basic conversations but their communication mostly took place in the common speech of Alagäesia.

The dragons trained, too, and their mental combat was particularly taxing since they were naturally more adept at the practice of maintaining a closed off mind. Indeed, no creature other than another dragon could even hope to compete with the mental strength of a dragon. They practiced complicated flying maneuvers some but focused largely on strength and flexibility training. Vezh was becoming lanky and often got tangled in her own limbs, and Hûnzorl was simply stocky, much like his rider. They practiced flying great distances with limited numbers of flaps, learned to utilize each other's slipstreams, and spent hours maintaining a single spot in the air. Angela compared it to treading water and a look of joy came across her as she described swimming but Eragon had never learned until he was in Du Welden Varden and hadn't particularly become adept. Eventually, they hoped to practice in-flight combat, particularly while neither dragon could breathe flames.

At night, after sharing a meal they prepared together, the student Riders would listen with rapt attention as Eragon, Angela, or Blödhgarm told a story off the first order of Riders or a story from their own experience. Often, they simply read from history scrolls and shared information that way, taking the opportunity to practice the Ancient Language. Sometimes, to the great pleasure of everyone, the Eldunarí would tell stories. Other times, they simply added to the stories one of the others told.

Eragon realized solemnly one night that this was his life forevermore. The training of these Riders alone would take years and he would have more students long before these were graduated. He hoped some of the students would return to train others but he was insistent that they spent time in Alagäesia learning far more than any educational program could before they could teach.

Their stories finished, the group sat together and enjoyed the sight of the stars and the bright moonlight. Angela's gaze kept flicking towards the ocean and she seemed unable to refrain from checking that a small pouch on her hip remained securely fastened there. She only smiled and winked when Eragon caught her eyes and seemed to try harder after that to appear at ease.

 _She's not the same woman we met in Teirm,_ he told Saphira.

 _And you are not the same boy she met._

Saphira allowed her words to sink in before grunting and standing up, stretching her legs and neck, a pained expression on her face.

 _I have been so uncomfortable recently and I'm certain that I will lay an egg soon._ She moved her neck around and opened her mouth wide in a ferocious looking yawn. Eragon could sense the fear that she tried so hard to hide from anyone and he knew she wished desperately to be a part of the continuation of her race.

 _I think,_ she said suddenly, blinking, _that I will lay an egg now._


	16. Setting Sun

**Chapter 16**

 **Setting Sun**

 _Hundreds of years from now, the sun will still set and rise, the stars will shine, and the dragons will still rule the skies. It was not so long ago that I doubted this but look where we have come._

The moon-that-was-closer-than-in-Alagäesia shone brightly, casting its reflected light on Saphira's deep blue scales and the deep crimson stone-that-is-not-a-rock that protected a slumbering baby dragon. She liked to imagine that her offspring would be as beautiful as she was and wondered if that were possible. However, she did enjoy that the dragon was the color of Saphira's own dame and she snorted a puff of soft-smoke-that-comes-from-belly-fire, which is different than black-smoke-that-comes-from-burning-fire.

Tired, she put her head down and watched the stone-that-is-not-a-rock intently and hummed in her chest. She heard footsteps and felt partner-of-her-mind-and-heart-Eragon approaching. She blinked at him, grateful for his silence-that-means-he-cares and returned her gaze to the egg. Eragon sat beside her and leaned gently against her side, where he smiled when he felt her humming.

 _Beautiful._ He finally said, a gentle whisper in her mind. She knew he meant her and the egg both and she snorted again, happy. Everyone thought she was beautiful but it meant the most to her when Eragon said so. She also couldn't help agreeing that the small egg they stared at was gorgeous.

She could practically feel him bursting to ask his question but he knew better than to push and she was happy that he would give her the time she needed. Partner-of-her-mind-and-heart-Eragon was smart and sweet and cared very much and he knew what to say and when to be quiet. She loved him very much.

 _Yes, Little One._

Eragon's eyes-that-seem-too-small-to-hunt locked their gaze on her and she knew he was not waiting for her attention but rather he was surveying her, gently making sure she was alright. And examining her beauty, no doubt. She thought back to her name-that-is-more-true-than-Saphira and realized she was still just as vain as ever, but decided that she didn't mind too much.

They sat in silence-that-meant-they-cared for a long time and Saphira hummed as Eragon gently fell into his rest-that-is-not-sleep against her. She cocked her head, examining the egg closely, wondering if the decision she was about to make was a wise one. She wished she could ask the baby and considered for a moment whether she should try to reach out with her mind but decided that simply feeling its energy and its mind-light was enough. She certainly did not wish to scramble its baby brain with her much more powerful mind.

Eventually, she dozed off, tail curled protectively around her Rider and fierce maw aimed towards her egg. Neither dragon nor Rider woke until the sun was already high.

_X_X_

 _This world is dying and the sun is setting and I fear it will not rise._

Trembling wildly, Angela the Herbalist shook dragon knuckle bones between pale hands. Her dark eyes were large and round and she stared into the waves without really seeing them. The stars were bright and the silence that permeated the night was evidence enough that Saphira had successfully laid her egg.

Soon, the only flames would be those pouring from the mouths of dying dragons and the only rain would be that of their blood.

 _Stop it!_

She clamped her hands tightly together, stopping the rattling of the smooth white bones.

The waves crashed. Stars glinted. Green light sparked from between her hands.

The moon reflected off a tangled mass of curly hair as Angela slumped against the sand, unconscious. The dragon knuckle bones tumbled from her hand and the gentle lapping of the waves, deceptively ominous as fate tends to be, pulled them into the waters.

She did not wake until the water reached her back and she bolted upright with a start, keening softly when she realized her loss.

 _The sun is going to set and night will be eternal._

_X_X_

Blödhgarm and Tawny sat awake all night enjoying a puzzle game Angela had pulled from one of her bags for them to play. She called it "chess" and so far, the two creatures had tied 17 games straight. Sometimes, when Tawny was particularly aggravated, she would slip into her cat form, surveying the board from two sets of eyes, but they always came to a tie in the end.

But of course, Tawny didn't want to beat Blödhgarm and was trying to let him win.

So was he.

And so, each throwing the game in order to allow the other to win—without making it obvious that that's what was happening—they played together for hours, pausing only when Eragon projected his thoughts far across Du Welden Frethyen, rejoicing at Saphira's successful egg-laying. Staug and Tulgrog jolted, jerked briefly from the deep sleep they had each fallen into after having dozed off on their own benches in Angela and Tawny's home. Staug put a fist against his chest weakly and Tulgrog moved his head as if he were imagining stomping his feet and bearing his horns in celebration. The two students made a hilarious image and their dragons, asleep outside somewhere, were as close of friends as their Riders.

_X_X_

Eragon woke gently and smiled, replaying the night's events before he opened his eyes. He took a deep breath in, enjoying the feeling of his lungs taking in the first gulp of air of the day, and pulled himself up. To his surprise, Saphira was already awake, watching him with gentle blue eyes.

 _It is time, Little One._ She told him gently. _The Riders shall have a new dragon._

Eragon couldn't help the great smile that leapt across his face and he hugged Saphira's neck tightly.

He had tried so hard to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself so she could make her own decision but he had been so worried that she would prefer her baby to be wild. He wasn't sure why it seemed like an insult but he was fairly certain it did. At the very least, it certainly would have hurt his feelings. Didn't she want this bond for her own child?

But he had kept his thoughts to himself as much as she had kept hers to herself and he was happily surprised to hear the news.

Carefully rubbing her head against her Rider, Saphira snorted, shook, and stood up, stretching her cramped legs.

 _Are you ready to perform the magic?_ She asked, worried what the negative consequences might be if anything went wrong.

 _Yes. I am sure this will work._ Eragon knew she would have smiled, albeit weakly, at his reassurance, and scratched her chin lovingly. _Do you want the others to be here?_

 _Yes,_ she finally decided, _the students, especially, should see this._

Eragon agreed and they descended from their cave together towards Angela's home. They thought to invite her first but were surprised to sense the minds of everyone in their group as they approached and realized that everyone had stayed up late awaiting the arrival of Saphira's egg. Eragon smiled and beckoned her forward.

The ceremony was small and beautiful and Eragon's magic was shockingly powerful. They stood quietly for a while, staring at the smoky red shell of Saphira's relatively small egg. Everyone was smiling and Saphira herself seemed to positively glow.

_X_X_

Zi'Nawne smiled, marking the Scribe's map with a great white feather quill. Words scrawled across the paper had obscured most of the image but one spot, a location on the northernmost shore of Stonrakr, where rocky crags protected a beach with its own small forest. Few elfins had traveled there but after careful uses of controlled maga—that she had had to use it against her own subjects was a matter she preferred not to consider—she felt sure she had located the Rider and his blue dragon.

 _The sun is going to set for you, Eragon, and you will not see the next day._


	17. The Dying One

**Chapter 17**

 **The Dying One**

 **** Author's Note: I am SO sorry! It has been so long and let me just say that winter term was TERRIBLE. But I am back and hoping to continue this story! I've had so many people write and comment and give me their feedback and ideas and it has been so encouraging for me! This term will be a lot better and I hope to write more regularly. Thank you for your patience and support!**

Leaves stirred around torn and bloodied feet as a tired boy with orange skin pushed them forward. He stared forward unseeingly and blinked as if dirt was stinging his faded green eyes and perhaps it was, as a film had formed across them giving him the appearance of a blind man well beyond his years. He chanted in a language no other living being could understood and screamed as his flesh turned pale grey in places.

Whether he came to Stonrakr and Du Welden Frethyen by accident, stumbling as he did through the forests, or whether he was guided there, he wasn't sure. The stony crags tearing into the sky high above where any elfin could reach seemed to suggest that he hadn't reached the new Rider's camp on his own power but he couldn't know for sure.

His screams echoed widely but he couldn't see the strange group that surrounded him when he collapsed in the sand, his feet still oozing. When he closed his strange eyes his mind seemed to close, too, and he became entirely inaccessible to the prodding of those who stood, watching with expressions of panic and confusion.

"Eragon?" A husky male voice asked, tentatively. There was a pause where someone else moved quietly, so quietly that anyone else might not have heard at all, and a low snarl from something very big. The boy trembled, the grey changes in his skin spreading rapidly and cold sweat running across his forehead.

He faded into darkness and heard nothing else as he lost consciousness.

_X_X_

Angela shook, her face pale and wildly panicked. "The Dying One. The signs are here. Our fate is sealed. We shall not survive this." No one heard her warning or perhaps they wouldn't have tried so hard to heal the strange boy.

Eragon and Blödhgarm agreed that it wouldn't be wise to try to heal the boy's wounds without knowing what had caused them and set about trying to detect any magic hanging over him or his wounds. Unfortunately, detecting maga was even harder for them, unfamiliar as they were with the strange forces here, and the process took much longer and much more energy than they expected.

Saphira sniffed the boy and used the opportunity to teach the two young dragons about the smell of infection, as well as other signs such as heat and swelling.

 _If your Rider is ever injured or if you are ever in a battle, it is important to know what to look for._ Eragon heard her explaining, the white dragon nodding curiously and the red dragon shivered, his mind emanating determination and fear. Both were disgusted at the thought of something happening to their Riders and Saphira couldn't help thinking of how fast she had had to grow in order to handle the early trials she and Eragon had faced.

Tawny played her part, too, sitting in her cat form and staring intently at the boy's face. She seemed to be able to make some connection to his faded conscious where he was completely undetectable to any of the others. They assumed this meant magic or illusion, but Tawny wondered if he was simply too far-gone to maintain his position in the world.

Angela seemed horribly distracted by her own skin as she watched the boy's turn grey and her eyes grew wider and wider by the second as she absentmindedly scratched her arms and adjusted her hair. Eragon and Blödhgarm were so focused on their own work that neither of them noticed her absence until Blödhgarm suddenly lashed out.

"And you, witch? What have you to say? Surely the great herbalist can help restore this boy's health?" Eragon agreed with the blue elf until he turned to see Angela's state. Her wild eyes turned to fix Blödhgarm in a terrifying empty stare, not narrowing but only growing wider as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I can destroy his mind." She said quietly. "But that is the only respite left for him."

The Rider and elf exchanged a nervous glance and Saphira growled protectively, turning her attention to the interaction.

 _What mind does he have to destroy? He seems far beyond our touch._

Angela finally closed her eyes and Eragon and Blödhgarm seemed to sigh in relief.

"He has my own mind. We are one."

The boy was almost completely grey now and Angela twitched horribly as the last bit of orange faded from the boy's skin. He seemed to collapse into himself and fade, as if he was an illusion cast on a puff of smoke and not the skin-and-bones boy he had been moments before.

The silence was palpable in the sandy clearing where the group had been working until finally Staug, in his brilliant bluntness, asked finally: "Who?"

As if a spell shattered around them, they all took a deep breath in and sighed, smiling slightly at their environment as if they suddenly noticed the lovely weather.

Each of the characters walked away, Eragon and Blödhgarm chatting about the implications of the local brand of magic on their own spellweaving, Staug and Tulgrog walked away the other direction, talking about how nice the water must be and debating whether they should change their clothes first or jump in with what they were already wearing. Saphira was explaining to Hûnzorl and Vezh about the dangers of infections in various species, telling them that, when the opportunity arose, she would have them smell out infections on humans, elves, urgals, dwarves, and others, looking for other signs such as heat and swelling. Angela and Tawny stared at each other, their eyes wide with recognition and fear as the sand blew around them and the wisp of smoke that had held the shape of a boy blurred before their eyes.

Knowing he was still there, dying on the ground, did little to allow them to save him and even sensing his weak mind was becoming more difficult for them both. Tawny switched back into her human form and Angela found herself staring at a teary-eyed little girl with streaked orange and blonde hair, who nodded solemnly.

Angela closed her eyes and sent a pulse towards the smoke, letting out a whimper as the boy's mind finally went out and he faded entirely, dead at last and solidly beyond contact.

She stood, putting her hand out to hold Tawny's, and they walked back to the herbalist's hut together.

 _They won't remember the Dying One,_ Tawny whispered into Angela's mind.

 _No,_ she agreed, _but no one remembers the Grey Folks._


	18. Delva Angela

**Chapter 18**

 **Delva Angela**

Zi'Nawne was mad, a recent development in her otherwise blank demeanor. After spending what seemed like months—and perhaps was just shy of two? She hadn't been keeping track—in a fevered gloom, turning in on herself and lashing out at those who tried to probe, she was finally expressing emotion again in front of other people. Unfortunately, "mad" meant "rage" for the nerve-shot leader of elfins. She was roaring with a dense flame that seemed to tear through the hearts of her people.

When they came to her with petitions or offerings, she knocked them aside with an angry swipe of her tail or hands. When they came with their concerns, she dismissed them with a growl. When they prayed before her and her skin began to glow as she became the center of their thoughts, she screamed at them to leave her.

Ya'Mino saw the worst of it. Zi'Nawne was no longer simply lashing out with her voice or her body, but now with her maga. Her recent powers to turn to stone that which she touched had thankfully been controlled, but she was now angry enough to do this intentionally. She destroyed large swaths of forest—the flower of the earth she so loved—when a petitioner had angered her and she turned the woods surrounding him to stone, crumbling them with the force of the screams she sent after him.

The elfins were scared and went around with hushed voices and little interaction, afraid that any small movement could bring down the wrath of the Queen of the Earth. The green elfins, those who shared in the maga that fueled the tyrant, were trying desperately to stay out of sight, worried she may draw them into her council. Zi'Nawne's scars had become increasingly bold as her power surged, but somehow the color seemed to fade from them. The green elfins hoped this meant they would be disassociated from her soon.

Zi'Nawne's normally bright skin was certainly still recognizable as green, but seemed to have faded, and her illustrious hair had turned solidly black, as had the streaking scars down her throat and chest. It was as if her maga was forcing its way through her body to such a degree that the very color was fading from her.

But of course that was silly.

_X_X_

Angela felt cold and stony, as if she had sunk to the bottom of a cavern with little hope of resurfacing. Her limbs felt heavy and she dreaded opening her eyes each morning, afraid of the world around her. Lost as she was in her thoughts, she was quite careful to keep thoughts of one particular figure firmly out of her mind.

Although Eragon was distracted with his own work—he and Blödhgarm had been spending most of their time improving the natural boundaries around Du Welden Frethyen, singing thorny plants and spiked stones into a protective border—he had not been entirely unaware of his friend's plight. Saphira had, of course, helped, when she pointed out to him that Angela hadn't offered the new Riders any lessons since—

 _Well I can't remember. But something happened the other day. It's as if I'm trying to see a memory through a dust cloud. My memory is simply grey._

But whatever the case, Angela's behaviour was not going unnoticed. Unfortunately, Eragon had simply no idea how to help. Blödhgarm wasn't much help either, although he did come up with an alternative solution—Tawny.

Ah, the golden werecat who had stolen the hearts of the entire group and who seemed drawn to the herbalist almost as much as she was to Blödhgarm. Although, in a very different way, it seemed. The blue elf had offered to commission Tawny's assistance, either to talk to Angela herself and see what might be done to help pull her from whatever sorrows plagued her, or to offer suggestions to Eragon and Blödhgarm. However, as the sun reached its peak in the soft blue sky that seemed to hang low over Du Welden Frethyen, inviting the dragons and their companions to dive into its open heights, one of their number took action for themselves.

Blödhgarm had agreed to speak with Tawny after the day's work had been completed and he and Eragon were wordlessly discussing the best boundaries to establish around their home. They had managed to stake out a large area of land and were pleased that the tall rocky mountains protected them from most threats, should any attempt to breach their home. Eragon watched three dragons soar around the caves, scratching out dead brambles and devouring animals that had taken residence there. Saphira took to burning the insides of the caves, sealing them with glittering blue flames that protected them from some of the wear they had experienced so far and using the opportunity to demonstrate fire-breathing to Hûnzorl and Vezh.

Staug and Tulgrog remained on the ground, watching Blödhgarm and Eragon sing nature itself to the shape they desired. They had discussed this practice with the two student Riders and decided that it was likely possible for them to learn as well. Blödhgarm was apprehensive, wondering how an urgal and dwarf may learn to sing like the elves, but quickly put his fears aside when he considered that Eragon was not really an elf, either. It seemed they were discovering a new branch of magic as it developed, and they quickly realized that each race seemed to have a knack for specific works. Of course, they couldn't know now whether these patterns would hold true across the entirety of the races each man represented but they were glad to learn what they could.

Staug had a great talent for working with stone and metals and was able to sing basic changes into stone despite how little he had practiced. His mental flexibility and magic allowed him to sense nuances in the stone's temperament that were entirely undetectable to the others. He took great pride in this work and commented often that his father would be proud to see this.

Tulgrog took a bit longer to settle into this work as the urgalagra's songs were quite different and he had difficulty maintaining anything for any long period of time. However, it seemed that this was to his advantage as his singing quickly became very powerful and any extended duration of magic threatened to move too much at once. His natural abilities oriented themselves best towards the dirt and earth itself, something neither Eragon or Blödhgarm had actually considered working with at all. Although he couldn't work stone as well as Staug, Tulgrog seemed to be able to influence the shape of the ground and he helped flatten the training arenas and collapse potential weak spots in the ground beneath the boundaries the others built.

This also served as Eragon's first opportunity to discuss the dangers of magic and the risks against life itself when Tulgrog sang a change through the earth and collapsed a burrow, killing most of a clan of weasels beneath them. Eragon and Blödhgarm reacted first as they were most acutely connected to the lives around them but Tulgrog and Staug reacted, too, and the tears Tulgrog shed were reminder enough to Eragon that Alagäesia's hatred of urgals was sadly misplaced.

The young Riders returned to their shelter to rest after that, and Eragon and Blödhgarm took a break in the shade of the stony heights of the mountains. Eragon brushed his mind against Saphira's as if stroking her smooth head and Saphira sent back an image of the work they were doing. The Rider was surprised to realize they were one short, though, and responded questioningly.

 _Hûnzorl returned to the ground. He said he wished to discuss something with the Herbalist._ She included an image of some of the tastiest treats Angela had been able to scavenge and Eragon laughed but doubted, somehow, that Saphira would have let the red dragon go just for a snack. He explained what had transpired to Blödhgarm, who agreed that it seemed weird. Saphira generally encouraged independence, though, and neither were surprised she had allowed the red dragon to make his own decision—he would handle the consequences later, for better or worse. The matter was mostly dropped, although Eragon made a mental note to check-in with the herbalist later on, after Tawny had spoken with her.

 _At least I'll have a solid reason to go to her, other than just seeing what's wrong._ He told Saphira, who snorted back at him.

 _She would probably appreciate to know you went without needing anything from her—ONLY to see what's wrong._

Eragon grumbled and returned his attention to the wineskin and fruit before him.

_X_X_

Great jaws snapped and the sound of a large reptilian tongue running across a scaley maw slithered through the small hut. The disgruntled hiss of a werecat who did not appreciate being awoken this way escaped Tawny's small mouth and she pushed herself into a seated position.

 _What do you want, lizard?_

 _Where is Angela?_ It was an interesting to thing to encounter a dragon with a heavy accent but Tawny was quite used to the red dragon's dwarven mind and she licked her paw as if she were quite bored and as if Hûnzorl was quite less terrifying than he was. Something about red dragons always seemed terrifying.

 _She is somewhere, certainly._ She switched her attention to another paw. _I might be convinced to help you._

Hûnzorl was more straightforward than the other dragons and shook his head, snorting. _No._ He finally responded, clacking his teeth together again. _I will find her._

Tawny shivered as she felt the force of the dragon's mind spread, searching for the bright spot that was Angela the Herbalist. He seemed to detect her out behind the cabin, somewhere in the nearby woods, and he bade farewell to the werecat with a puff of smoke from one nostril. The look of pride that he had produced that much indication of flame dampened the intimidation of the act a bit but he didn't seem to care too much, and Tawny returned to her nap as the red dragon lumbered past the hut.

Angela seemed startled when Hûnzorl appeared suddenly in front of her, which seemed strange considering her own mental ability to sense him and the great ferocity of noise he had stirred up on his way. Stepping back, Angela tripped over a root and landed with a padded thump on the ground. Hûnzorl crouched and put his great head near the herbalist as if he would, were he smaller, put his head on her lap and purr. He blinked his great eyes at her and seemed to hum.

 _Angela, we will not forget you._

She gasped.

The strength of the assertion of this young dragon was unexpected, as was the accuracy of his deductions.

 _You will not fade, and we will not forget you. You are a bright spot to us._

Silvery tears sprung to her eyes and she closed her mouth into a tight line, like a mother who feels guilty for being comforted by a young child but can't help admitting she needs the support. She put one small hand out to the red dragon's muzzle and he rubbed his face against it, humming audibly now.

She cracked a smile and Hûnzorl snorted a chuckle.

 _So tell me, delva, why are you not grey?_


	19. Memories Like Stones

**Chapter 19**

 **Memories Like Stones**

He sat and he listened, and he saw everything. He was everything around him, every thought of every creature was one he had himself. But he was nothing—simply a wisp, although his physical presence crouched in the woods like an elf certainly seemed like an intruder in a world that never meant to host his kind.

 _I am alone._

Saphira had often expressed her own sadness at being the last of her kind—as far as she knew at the time—and his own heart weighed heavy with the realization that now he was the only one of his kind. He supposed he was somewhat like Blödhgarm and somewhat like Angela, but really he was neither. He wasn't sure how he knew Angela wasn't quite human, but he knew.

 _What do you know, Shur'tugal?_

The pressing voice of a millennium of knowledge and experience bore against Eragon's mind and he faltered for a moment, in awe, as always, by the majesty of the ancient dragons. The deep bass hum of Morablr sang through Eragon's head and he smiled. He saw in the dragon's mind an image of self, a ferocious dragon three times the size of Saphira, roaring gloriously and streaming great lengths of flame from his maw.

 _It's been a long time._ Eragon shifted his hands from his thighs to the soft earth, finding comfort in grounding himself. His knees dug into the moss and he was comfortable, surrounded by the damp green of the quiet forest.

 _Yes. I haven't had words since Zi'Nawne hoped to bare your children._ Ignoring Eragon's worldless stammering, he continued, _But now we must speak. Something is stirring._

 _The winds are always moving here, it seems._ Finally, the golden dragon Glaedr spoke to Eragon, and he could feel Saphira's mind being pulled into their conversation.

 _Ebrithil,_ they offered together, mentally bowing to the force of the dragon they missed so much.

 _Oromis would be proud._ The three of them smiled internally, quietly appreciating who Oromis had been and what he had done. _But we must prepare for something stronger than we have encountered before._

 _What is it?_ Images of Zi'Nawne, Ya'Mino, and the other elfins flashed through Eragon's mind but they didn't seem particularly dangerous, especially with Saphira's additional image of ripping them apart with her teeth and claws.

 _We don't know. There is a magic here much more ancient than the magic you use. We believe this magic is more like the magic of the dragons, but the memory is so grey-_

Eragon stood suddenly, pushing everyone from his mind, and opened his eyes wide. A story, an image, a legend, there was _something_ he had heard before. He knew what this was but he couldn't remember what it was. Why couldn't he remember? He could only find the thread of a memory, like finding a single grey pebble in a pool of colored stones.

He sprinted then, as only an elf—or part elf—could, and he dug through his memories. He thought of the Twins in the Varden, plunging their spiked probes into his mind, and he turned that same force inward, digging at old memories like digging at rocks embedded in the earth. Something about stones? Saphira hadn't been a stone, she was an egg, but he remembered wondering how she had been shaped so perfectly.

 _Dragon magic. Older than anything we know. But not older than anything._

He darted into the small wooden structure at the edge of the forest, ignoring the flames that flickered in the fire pit as he ran by.

 _Dragon flames._

He thought of his magic when Angela and Blödhgarm had deemed him king of Du Welden Frethyen and stopped, something nagging at him. The flames danced so easily for him, as if he could intimately reach out and pluck them from the air.

He thought of the first magic he ever used, fending off Urgals when he and Brom were on the run. He thought of his sword, bursting into flames at his mere wish it seemed. Without thinking, he reached into the air as if to grab the floating seed of a dandelion or a spiraling leaf from a maple tree, and captured a small blue flame in his hand instead. The force of it was enlivening and his entire body felt like he was waking up from a deep sleep. The flames seemed to burn through him, cleaning the cobwebs and debris from the tunnels of his mind.

Quietly extinguishing the flames, he retrieved a mirror from the chest at one end of the room and held it at arm's length so as to best capture his entire face. He ignored his own appearance, frightened by the flames he saw behind his eyes, and shook his head as Saphira landed loudly outside. With a burst of energy, he sent her everything that had run through his mind, and he could feel her recoil with the mass of it.

Returning his focus to the mirror, he put a hand up, willing that…well he wasn't sure. He knew what he wanted and was quite sure that simply willing it would be enough, but that didn't seem to make the most logical sense. Before he could question it, his glowing eyes swimming under furrowed brows, a beautiful face appeared in the mirror.

Long raven hair and porcelain skin greeted Eragon and he desperately wished he could smell the crushed pine scent he knew surrounded the beautiful elven queen.

"Eragon?" The voice of an angel.

"Arya. Tell me about the Grey Ones."


	20. A Mirror

**Chapter 20**

 **A Mirror**

Arya's wide eyes searched the reflection of Eragon's face and he could feel the burning force of it, despite the distance between them. As much as he wished to be beside her, he was grateful for the safety of a world's worth of leagues.

"How did you reach me?" She was…angry? Eragon leaned back, momentarily distracted from his train of thought. Saphira kept the idea of the Grey Folk close at the front of her mind, prepared to redirect Eragon should he get too far off course.

Arya's raven black hair was pulled back to reveal her sharply pointed ears, cat-like eyes, and furrowed brows, and everything about her appearance screamed dangerous. She had become a Queen of a people in flux and it had been months since Eragon had seen her, or Alagäesia last. He knew from Nasuada that there were no new wars and that the state of things was generally peaceful, so he couldn't help wondering if that ferocity was not drawn from her position, but from seeing him.

"What do you mean?" He thought of his attempts to scry her and realized that he had never before managed this contact. "Oh because you—"

"It should be impossible for you to contact me. The dangers our…contact…could have on your mission there are innumerable." She cast her eyes down, looking at her hands as if they didn't belong to her, and Eragon realized she had used the name of the Ancient Language to deny all contact.

An image of Isidar Mithrim shattering came to mind as he felt the pieces of his heart crumble. She didn't want anything anymore. She didn't want to see him. And she had made sure, knowing how weak he was, that he couldn't see her.

He put a hand against his head for a moment, forcing the thoughts away with a push, and turned his attention back to her statement. "It doesn't matter how I did it, I'm not even sure how I did it. Tell me about the Grey Ones."

Arya sighed, almost a huff, and examined him for another moment. Convincing Arya to do something she didn't want to do was almost as difficult as convincing the Menoa tree to give up her treasures. Of course, Saphira probably wouldn't blow flames in Arya's face to change her mind. She prickled at the memory, but Eragon ignored her.

"Grey _Folk_ , Eragon. And they've been disappeared for thousands of years. Our best knowledge suggests they came here, wreaked havoc, cleaned up their mistakes, and then left. Or faded. We aren't sure." Her voice was surprisingly bitter and she scowled deeply while she spoke.

"That's it, that's all we know?"

She examined him again. "You have lost your manners, Shur'tugal. But yes, that's all we know. Why? What's going on?"

Eragon searched her face now, examining a woman he once knew so well.

 _She missed you, Little One. Of course she's going to be bitter._

That didn't make very much sense to Eragon, who would have been thrilled to receive some sort of contact from the elf queen.

"Arya Drötting," he said, nodding his head and twisting his hand against his chest, "I am in a world of Grey Folk and the magic here is much stronger than any we have seen before."

Reaching into the space in front of him, he pulled a flame from the air and silently shaped it into the yawë, the way the design looked originally. It burned for a moment, so bright blue it hurt to look at for more than a moment, and then disappeared as he closed his hand around it.

Arya's eyes were wide and her mouth had popped slightly open for a moment before she closed it again.

Eragon took the next several minutes explaining almost everything that had occurred since their arrival, lending acute detail to his observations of maga and interactions with beings that seemed to be Grey Folk. He remembered Angela's great sadness over someone who had disappeared but couldn't seem to remember them disappearing. She narrowed her eyes when he glossed over their interactions with the elfins and he was grateful she couldn't see the images of Zi'Nawne that played in his mind from so far away.

"It seems almost as though you have traveled back in time," she said quietly, switching to the Ancient Language. "The Grey Folk could control magic with their thoughts and minds and magic roamed free in both Alagäesia and, presumably, their homeland. However, one user nearly destroyed Alagäesia and they bound the magic to their words—the Ancient Language. You know that, though, from your time in Du Weldenvarden." He nodded, remembering the information Oromis had shared with him.

"That's really all we know? I think perhaps these creatures are the Grey Folk that didn't leave for Alagäesia. It seems that they fade when they are unsustained. There has been tragedy here and they disappear. But they fade from their bright colors into horrible grey figures. We watched one die—" Eragon was surprised to realize he could remember all of it, and he filed the thought away to discuss with Angela later.

Arya was quiet for a moment, considering his words. "There are great dangers approaching you, Eragon. What can I—What can we do? The elves will do what they can to serve Saphira and the other dragons."

"She says thank you," he responded, relaying Saphira's thoughts since she couldn't project them herself, "And I'm not sure. But I sense that a war is coming and we need to figure out how to use this maga."

_X_X_

Zi'Nawne was cold and her eyes lacked the luster they'd once been so full of. Her hands were icy and grey. Despite these changes, she suddenly felt like she could see much more than before, and perhaps think more broadly.

Laying on the floor in the middle of her chambers, she wasn't much of a sight, but the frantic images and inked maps scattered around her gave proof to the fevered mind behind her stony eyes. Queen of the Earth. Ha! She was nothing now.

Crawling to the window—the very same window her dear Lanr had fallen from—she peered over the edge to view the world she had once so loved. Full of life and love, she had dedicated herself to the promotion of the elfins and their world. Stonrakr was full of all the things she held most dear except that now, she held nothing dear.

The wind picked up and blew her hair in her face, an annoyance she had forgotten about since shutting herself inside. Reaching up to push it away, she sighed sadly when it crumbled to dust. Apparently, her abilities were not entirely in control after all. She thought of the great stone wyrms she had commanded and wished she could be so free.

Not bothering to crawl back to where she started, she simply lay down, slumping sadly. She had no doubts that she was dying, fading into grey the way so many others had. The way the children had. Sustained by maga, made of maga, she knew she could not survive if the world continued to leech that from her. She thought of the children and placed her hands against her stomach, wishing she could bear them and wishing she could be free.

An instant hardening sensation surprised her and she looked down to see that she had turned her midsection to stone. A small gasp escaped her lips but she realized quickly that there was no pain. The smooth shapes of her stone midsection were surprisingly flexible and she could still move about.

An escape. Either she would perish or she would be free, and that was true either way. Gently, section by section, she moved her hands up and down her body, changing each bit of herself to stone. Lastly, she placed one hand on her heart and one on her head, knowing this would be the last she would live or the first of her new life.

When she opened her eyes, the world was grey, and she was full of color.


	21. The Greyest

Angela hummed and hummed, prancing about Du Welden Frethyen with a sloppy sort of grin on her face. The days had worn her down and she had finally decided it was better to be in the present than anywhere she'd been in the past. Although she could have killed for some Nagra. She glanced over at Staug as he sat playing with Hûnzorl and wondered if he ever missed the cuisine of his people. She wasn't sure where Tulgrog had gotten off to, but was quite sure the young urgal was homesick. With such a small population here, Staug was no doubt at peace, although he probably would have preferred to be underground than above it. But Tulgrog was part of a massive community who was actively engaged with each other's lives.

Both young Riders had been put to hard work since they arrived and their skills had grown tremendously. Still, neither could come close to the magical abilities of Blödhgarm, Eragon, or herself, and she knew it would be decades before they would. Unfortunately, she also knew they might never. The lack of representation among the races, each member of the small party representing their entire race, made culture and growth difficult, and Angela couldn't help worrying about their more generalized educations.

As if Angela wasn't so dismally preoccupied with these concerns, Eragon's rapid approach was a clear signal that something was wrong. With an inkling of what that might be, she sighed and turned, walking back towards her cottage. She was glad that Eragon seemed to have learned enough brightness to follow her wordlessly, although she had to glance over her shoulder to make sure he really was following, silent as his footsteps were.

Unfortunately, their discussion was exhausting. After having cast the necessary magic around them to ensure proper privacy, Eragon had launched immediately into his top concerns, focusing primarily on the possibility of an attack.

"Well of course they're going to attack us," Angela laughed, stirring a cup of tea with the root of a plant she had yet to identify. "That's been obvious since we left Zi'Nawne and the rest of the elfins in that horrible state. We haven't exactly been the most friendly co-dwellers here."

Eragon was quiet and Angela took a pause to munch thoughtfully on the end of the root, grimacing as sour sap dribbled into her mouth.

"What exactly do you know about the Grey Folk?" he asked finally, eyeing her with those strange cat-eyes.

Setting her cup and the root down, she beamed widely and laughed. "Eragon! You've finally learned how to ask the right questions! And be straightforward. I'm almost proud of you," she announced.

Without another word, she stood and left the room. Eragon could hear her clamber up the stairs and then silence as she apparently sat down somewhere or remained standing in one place. He hesitated a moment before deciding there was too much at stake to risk her disappearing. With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and followed her up the stairs.

"Took you long enough," Angela called from her place near a bookcase at full capacity. "I thought it was clear that you were supposed to follow me. Really, Eragon, you were doing so good for a moment."

He restrained a smile, preferring to keep a stronger hand on the situation, and moved to stand beside her. Thanks to Brom and Oromis, he was a fluid reader now, and when the text that stared back at him was entirely unreadable, he had no doubt that it was the book rather than his own abilities.

"What language is that?" he asked gently, examining the strange font.

Whatever Angela's response was, it was instantly forgotten, and Eragon realized he couldn't even think of how her answer might be spelled or written. It was entirely unrecordable, even in his own memory. He stared at her, recognizing the importance of such a situation but not entirely sure what to think of it.

"It is my native tongue," she clarified. "I'm the keeper of the Grey Folk."

_X_X_

When Eragon finally dropped the privacy magic around Angela's hut, he realized that he knew much more than he had before, and understood very little. He was quite sure, though, that there would be consequences to the reawakening of such ancient magic, and Arya's words burned through his mind: " _A war is coming, Eragon. I'll send a ship."_

He'd contacted Nasuada after Arya's warning and explained briefly about both his suspicions and the elf queen's response. Details of magic and dragons were less important to Nasuada as a political leader, but deeply important as a friend, and Eragon did his best to provide only the information she would need. With all of Alagäesia on her plate, Nasuada had quite enough to worry about.

In a single afternoon, a great many decisions had been made, and Saphira would own centerstage in a terrifying play. Eragon was happy she took it so well and, despite his own paternal feelings towards the egg she'd recently produced, he couldn't help being glad his partner wouldn't be distracted by her offspring when the fighting began.

Without realizing where he was going, Eragon managed to make his way to the cottage Tulgrog and Staug shared, and summoned the three dragons there with a gentle mental shout. The Riders, already having been warned by Angela, were ready, and he took a moment to chastise them for failing to communicate with their dragons. Remembering the lesson he'd learned so harshly from Oromis, and with Glaedr's guidance, he explained that they should always know what their partner was doing whenever they were close enough to be in contact. When the dragons arrived and settled themselves comfortably, three great heads positioned to hear and observe the conversation about to take place, Eragon squared his shoulders and began.

"When Saphira and I were newly bonded and we first made it to the Varden in Farthen Dûr," he said, nodding at Staug, "we were thrown into a battle that was not our own and forced to take sides. We began a war that lasted years. It did not end with the downfall of Mad King Gallbatorix."

The younger Riders exchanged a glance nervously, although their faces were strong and set. Saphira, seeing the plan of Eragon's explanation, continued.

 _We fought tooth and claw, sword and magic, to destroy an enemy that was never in front of us, but inside of us. We ask you now to do the same._

Vezh and Hûnzorl seemed entirely more enthusiastic than their Riders, and Eragon couldn't help laughing at the familiar feeling.

"How can we know there will be a war, ebrithilar?" Tulgrog spoke up.

"Because we know that there must be," Eragon responded, his voice full of sparks and his words drawing warm flames through the stomachs of those listening. "We know that this magic—maga- is older than the Ancient Language, and far more unbound than anything we've known. We know it is terribly similar to dragon magic, although we know little of that bond. We know that we have maga and that we must learn it."

Silence crackled through the air, interrupted only by Saphira's added words:

 _We know that the queen of the elves is sending an army, and that each of your races will likely pledge the same._

Eragon's throat clenched painfully as he realized that Nasuada had promised no such thing. While he was certain that the leaders of the dwarves and the urgalagra would be happy to commit to the defense of their first Riders, as well as to a battle that would surely win them the sort of honor that meant so much, he knew Nasuada would not intervene. He truly had stopped representing the human population. Alagäesia was no longer his home. Remembering Angela's prophecy all those years ago, he shuddered and forced down a thick fear that bubbled in his stomach.

"But that could just be a precaution, right?" Staug asked, clarifying. The young dwarf was unsurprisingly more reserved, although he seemed eager to fight should the need arise. Both Riders were painfully aware that they knew little of how to fight in general, and even less of how to fight as Riders.

 _No,_ Saphira responded. _There will be war. We will win or we will die. I plan on winning._

Eragon wanted to laugh, a feeling that surprised him when there was so much tension in the room, until he realized that he truly was terrified. He'd led men to war before, but never what were basically children, and the men he'd led had been seasoned warriors, if not capable of nearly the same feats as he.

"Angela will begin your instruction immediately," Eragon continued, directing the conversation towards a more comfortable place for him: planning. "You will discover your maga and learn to control it. All of you will." He nodded at the dragons who had thus far been quiet and reached out a mental tug towards Saphira.

 _I hope you're right about this,_ he whispered privately to her.

 _Am I ever wrong?_ she sniffed, indignant. _Have some faith, Little One. We will prevail._

He smiled gently and sent an image of himself rubbing her nose, to which she snorted happily.

"Why Angela?" Staug asked, tugging nervously on the sleeves of his shirt and scooching closer to Hûnzorl, who breathed reassuringly against his face.

"I am of the race we will fight," Angela's voice poured in from the nearest window as she herbalist traipsed around the cottage to the front door. "Magic has shaped me and changed me, but I am a creature of maga, and I am the best hope you've got!"

Blödhgarm and Tawny followed close behind her, the former shooting a concerned look towards Eragon who nodded apologetically. He was sure the elf understood his methods and reasons for choosing to speak first to Angela alone and then directly to Saphira and the Riders, but it was unlikely to feel good regardless. Still, Blödhgarm wouldn't have preferred to hear this news from any but Angela herself and he nodded in return, a silent acknowledgement.

"Can we really use maga?" the dwarf asked. "We've got no Grey Folk in us."

"It won't be as strong as mine," Angela said, suddenly appearing awkward. Eragon remembered her ill-aptitude towards magic in Alagäesia and wondered exactly how powerful she would be now. The thought made him glad he was fighting with her and not against. "But you'll be able to perform adequately."

 _And us?_ Vezh asked, a number of other questions surfacing in her mind. _What of us, Adurna Svit-Kona?_

Angela smiled, an almost crazed look entering her eyes at the mention of her water strength. _Indeed, Dragon. You three will be the first dragons in a very long time to do so on purpose._ She opened her mind to project the thought to the group but didn't stop there. Instead, she widened it, spreading it like a blanket over those gathered.

Memories seemed to pour from each person, and they watched as Saphira entombed Brom in a glorious crystal casket and when she healed the Isidar Mithrim. From Blödhgarm came thoughts of change, of beauty, and of soft music dancing through the air. Eragon's aptitude for fire was clear to everyone and his exposition was the shortest. Angela offered her own strange memories, all involving water and the atmosphere in ways none of them had scene before.

 _Earth, Air, Fire, and Water,_ she labeled each of them in turn. _And now we will learn more about the four of you._

The training began immediately and the new Riders, with their dragons, accompanied Angela to the training field. Blödhgarm went, too, curious about this new ability he would soon learn to work with. Eragon, however, stayed behind with two very unhappy individuals.

 _Earth,_ Saphira sniffed, thinking of her great love of flying. _That cannot be correct. I am a beast of the sky, I am the color of the oceans, and I breathe fire._

Unsure what to say, Eragon simply placed a hand on her head as he walked out of the cottage, and hummed gently, a habit he'd picked up from her. She snorted haughtily in response and then stoope her head in an apology, although she still boiled inside.

 _And what of me, you great lizard?_ Tawny asked, her thoughts stabbing sharply into each of them. _What am I in this world?_

Angela stopped and looked back, responding to the sheer force of Tawny's frustration, but only turned in time to see a bushy orange tail disappear into the woods. She sighed and returned her focus ahead, moving ever forward.

 _There is no place for me,_ she thought privately, shutting her mind again. _But I won't let you die, too._


End file.
